Hoping It Would Go Away
by mayprincess
Summary: Dan spent all summer hoping it would go away...
1. Chapter 1

**"I was hoping it would go away."**

** ...(I was humiliated.)**

* * *

><p>Dan Humphrey spent the summer slumming it in the Hamptons.<p>

The fact that he called it "slumming" may have been the first indication that he had truly and finally followed the metaphorical rabbit completely down the hole that was the Upper East Side. While everyone he knew was out having worldly adventures - California, Monaco, Barcelona, some random Slavic nation - Daniel Humphrey donned as much cliché white as he could find and cruised the tourist-ridden Main Street of New Yorkers' favorite go-to summer lodging.

(At one point, he even found himself using the word "vaca" - mostly ironically, of course.)

Gossip Girl had called his choice "pedestrian". But seeing as she still tracked his every move on a UESpotted map, Dan never lost sleep over the slight.

He said the city was getting him down. Truth was he was down, and unfortunately, no amount of white clothing was making it better. The past few months had dragged slowly and painfully along like nails on a chalkboard, only highlighted by too-short moments online he knew he shouldn't even be enjoying in the first place. But to a writer and first and foremost New Yorker, he knew the city was never to blame. New York was a dark-haired version of Serena van der Woodsen - beautiful, electrifying, alive, and somehow never accountable for the chaos within. The truth was pretty obvious and so incredibly sad.

Deep down, Dan knew what was causing his sudden and debilitating ennui. For the first time in his life, Dan Humphrey was lonely.

In all his years as "Lonely Boy", Dan had never actually felt alone. Even in the social Siberia that was his St. Jude's life pre-Serena, he was always well adjusted enough to know he had people to go to when in need. Maybe it was his somewhat healthy upbringing or his appreciation of life's events no matter how tragic. Maybe during his constant quest for art and culture, he didn't have the brain space to worry about his social unimportance. Maybe books and films and art galleries and his father's tidbits of warm wisdom kept him company. Hell, maybe it was Cedric.

He met a girl while reading on the beach one day. She had kicked sand on him to get his attention. It was childish but distracting, and she was cute enough to request an explanation for her rudeness and he was bored enough to actually listen.

"Thanks for the exfoliation. I'm sure my pores needed it," were his first words. He stared up at a leggy red head, her head tilted fortuitously blocking out the sun.

"My friends and I figured you could use the dust," she said, smiling at what even she deemed as a lame response. She surveyed his bizarre expression in response, and then she pointed to his book. He had picked up a copy of _Soul Dust _by Nicholas Humphrey. The study of consciousness was interesting and at times numbing - exactly what he needed at the moment.

"I would point out how weak that excuse is, but to be honest, I mostly picked this book from the store because the author shares my last name. I suppose that discredits my judgment." He smiled. Lopsided in the way he knew most women found charming. She took it as a cue to sit down next to him.

"Well then, Mr..." she said peering at the cover, "Humphrey, it's nice to meet you. My name is Sam." She stretched her pale, almost porcelain-colored legs out and extended her hand for an overly dramatic handshake.

What Dan had said wasn't the truth. He had picked a book debating consciousness because he had always found philosophy and psychology to be the world's best arguments for futility. While often pointless, they still entertained for several hours and made him look intelligent when he alluded to them in polite company. However, his calculated comment had found him a companion. Samantha was a townie (although the word was really a disservice to the people affluent enough to afford living all year in the Hamptons) who often complained about city inhabitants who had no clue how to drive because they did it so rarely. She took Dan to local stores and provided him with something less pathetic to do than read alone and write emails.

One day, while seemingly trying to impress him, she took him to a local gallery. The exhibit was called "Couture Shock" and she openly admitted after two minutes that perhaps this was a bit too girly even for her. "It's alright," he had responded. "A friend of mine has recently helped me appreciate a certain elegance to the moving architecture you see in fashion."

It was the first time he had openly referred to Blair all summer. In the beginning of his stint in the Hamptons, Eric has pressed the topic once or twice, but seeing Dan's resistance, he quickly relented. Eric had since left the Hamptons to prepare for Sarah Lawrence. And maybe to get away from Dan's self-imposed gloom. Either way, he didn't begrudge Eric the early departure.

The summer had been filled with reading and walking, swimming and drinking iced coffee, and recently Samantha. Blair had only existed on a computer screen. A fairly extensive Gmail conversion that proved his affinity for bad habits especially when it came to women.

"Elegance to the moving architecture? You are from the Upper East Side, aren't you?" she mocked, fully in jest.

"Brooklyn, actually. That's somewhat better, right?"

"I guess," she said, linking arms with his. "Tell me more about how fashion is art."

Sam was cutting and at times derisive. And if he was completely honest with himself, that bitchiness turned him on more than her obvious physical beauty. As the summer was drawing to a close, he stopped reading and walking. He swam less and usually only drank his iced coffee with Sam and occasionally her friends. She started to spend every night at his house - a house so large and empty that they could make as much noise as they liked as they entertained themselves through the lingering days of summer.

One particularly hot Tuesday in the last week of August, Samantha has shown up early in a sun dress and nothing else. Particularly disgruntled after checking his email all night to no avail, he began to plan a day to brighten his mood with his hands placed firmly on Sam's hips when the foreign sound of the doorbell echoed into the bedroom they had fallen into.

"Who's that?" Sam asked breathlessly. Dan pushed off the bed, adjusting his shorts.

Opting not to find the t-shirt he had flung somewhere en route to the bedroom, he said, "You stay there - just like that - and I'll see."

His feet padded quickly across the floor as he ran through a list of possible visitors. (The current top of the list being a vacuum salesman because honestly, who else would come to see him?)

Opening the door, Dan couldn't help but smile. But then as the peculiarity and awkwardness and perhaps the astonishment started to materialize in his mind, the smile never faded, but perhaps a question mark began to dance around the edges of his lips. Standing in front of him, in an orange sun dress, far more stylish and fitted then the one he had imprecisely been in the process of removing just moments before, was the one person he had wanted to see all summer - even though he refused to speak the words out loud. In fact, he was so dead-set against missing her that he had banned her name from his vocabulary.

Ironically enough, the only thing he could think to say was the one word he had been avoiding all summer, "Blair."


	2. Chapter 2

The word hung in the air for a moment, suspended like a feather just beginning its downward spiral.

Then, "Humphrey." More of a declaration than anything else.

For a split second, she eyed him up, smiling with just a glint of something more hiding behind her brunette eyes.

But the feather dropped and the moment passed. The smile morphed into default Blair. "Shirtless, I see," she said sweeping past him into the foyer, her wide-brimmed hat ever so continental and her tone almost business-like. "I'm assuming you've just completely given up on any fashion in my short absence."

"Short absence? I haven't seen you in three months." He resisted the urge to take her into his arms and hug her. It wouldn't be unseemly. They _were_ friends after all. But he knew better.

"We've been talking," she said, continuing past the foyer into the spacious sitting room. "That's better than I can say for the rest of our New York friends." She took her hat off, a curl escaping from the brim and resting softly on the curve of her cheek. He resisted the urge to brush the strand from her face. It _would_ be unseemly. They were _only_ friends after all.

"I show up in New York yesterday, and no one's even there," she said, breaking him from his traitorous thought.

"Ahh, which would explain your presence here," he said, now looking anywhere around the room that wasn't that strand of hair.

"Yes, Humphrey. I was bored. I've come to ask you to entertain me." She patted the seat beside her patronizingly as she sat down in an oversized striped couch.

While gazing around the room, he noticed his shirt draped luckily on a chair and not strewn disloyally across the marble floors. He took a few steps towards it and pulled it quickly over his head.

"Don't dress on my account," he heard Blair say from the couch, an obvious smile playing in her voice.

"I wouldn't want to offend your delicate princess sensibilities," he said, sitting beside her, his arm flirting with the couch space close to her back. What once was a natural gesture now seemed too close and he dropped his arm back down beside him. "Plus," he said, recovering a bit from the awkwardness, "what would the paparazzi say when they catch the soon-to-be Princess Grimaldi sitting with a shirtless gentleman in the Hamptons?"

She wrinkled her nose. "Since when were you a gentleman?"

"You must be confusing me with other men you know," his tone knowing but not pushing. "I have always been a gentleman," he said smiling, silently remarking on how easy it was for him to fall back into the ebb and flow of Waldorf-Humphrey speak.

"I guess that's true. You do have a certain chivalrous charm about you." Dropping the topic, she shifted to look around the room. "I'm surprised you're still in the Hamptons. I was thinking you would be headed back to the city to get ready for classes."

He sighed. Going home was the last thing he wanted to think about. "I was waiting it out until classes actually began. The city's a little unbearable right now."

"The heat?" she questioned.

"Sure," he said shaking his head in faux acceptance. He didn't want to talk about himself right now. In fact, they typically worked better when talking about art or culture or her life's issues. She didn't want to hear that he didn't want to go to the city because every corner was stamped with remnants of Blair Waldorf. Somehow in the few months when they had formed a friendship, they had visited every one of his favorite spots in the city. He couldn't see a movie, or order an espresso, or eat a perogi, or buy a new book without remembering something witty she said or did.

He saw her studying his face, waiting for more but he wasn't going to give it to her. "Why are you back on this side of the pond?" he questioned, deflecting and changing the topic.

She looked startled for a moment but quickly recovered. "My classes are about to start too Humphrey. You're not the only one in school."

"And?" he questioned. She had a lost look about her he hadn't seen in a while. Before leaving for Monaco, Blair had seemed happy. Genuinely happy. It was the first time in all the years he had known her that the dark yet beautiful cloud that shadowed her everyday had all but evaporated. But sitting here on the couch, her stylishly fitted orange sun dress splayed out on the couch in all its wonderful layers, she looked how he had felt all summer.

Small.

And very lonely.

"Maybe I missed New York a little." It was a hesitant answer. But Dan had found the more hesitant a Blair answer, often the more true it was. "Watching that last Woody Allen movie with you last week, while commonplace as most Allen films tend to be, reminded me of how much New York I really am."

He studied her proud chin held high but couldn't help notice the slightly dewy look forming in her eyes. "Adjusting to Monaco has been difficult, hasn't it?" he searched gently. Her emails had kept him going all summer - the one ray of light in an otherwise dismal break, but he couldn't deny that at times they had come across as melancholy.

"I don't know. I keep telling myself that the change is good for me. Remember how you explained that Annie Hall was like your relationship with Serena?"

He didn't see where she was going with this, but he nodded because he found it best to ride out the wave. When someone was as intelligent as Blair, she usually had a point.

"You had to love her in order to realize that maybe she wasn't the one. That maybe the relationship had become more important than the person."

The implication made Dan's stomach drop. Was Blair saying what he thought she was saying? Was her happy fairytale suffering from what to do post "happily ever after"? What did that mean? Before he could flesh the thought out in his mind, he heard Blair's voice break through. "How did you know that it had reached that point?"

"I don't know," were all the words he could muster. Perhaps his writing days were over, he mused. She looked like she wanted more, so he tried, "One day, Serena was everything and the next day I realized that I was fine without her. She's still important, but I don't think she's the one anymore."

She sat quietly, thinking his words over. The strand of hair still teasing her cheek. "I missed you last night," he said, his voice genuine and his hand grazing her cheek to wipe the strand away. It was impulsive and somewhat inappropriate. Not seemly at all. But at the moment, he didn't much care.

Ignoring the undertone (as she was apt to do), she responded, "Well I thought you'd be in Brooklyn. Then I checked at Lily's. I don't think your father approves of our friendship."

"You were looking for me last night?"

"You can be really daft sometimes," she said, the small and lonely look from before disappearing. "Monday night is movie night."

"You came all the way here for movie night?"

"Maybe I needed someone to talk to," she said slightly shrugging her shoulder. "And apparently, you are one of the only people I can be honest with for some reason." It was a truth they both knew for some time now. Even before their makeshift friendship, Blair had been able to confide in him. It was still nice to hear out loud though.

Blair sighed loudly. "What has my life become?"

"Well, hey, at least we're in the Hamptons and not Brooklyn."

"There is that."

Her smile lifted his heart. Her closeness was verging on painful. He shouldn't have touched her face to sweep away that hair because now all he wanted to do was touch her again. He toyed with the idea for a moment before a voice broke his thought.

"Dan?"

The color drained from Dan's fan. He felt his hands go numb and he immediately sprang to his feet.

A petite red head in a sundress appeared in the hallway. "I was thinking maybe you got lost. This house is big enough," she said smiling until she saw another petite girl in a sun dress sitting too casually and too close to Dan on the sofa.

"Sam."

"You said you'd be right back," she said hesitantly.

Finding it difficult to move his mouth, Dan finally formed, "This is Blair."

Clearly that was not enough from the way Sam's eyes were growing bigger and bigger. "She's from the city. We're..." the pause only adding to the horrificness of the moment, "we're friends."

There had been plenty of painful moments in Dan Humphrey's life. Not being recognized as a human being for several years at school. Being targeted after his first/second break-up with Serena. Dealing with the aftermath of a threesome. Seeing a spandex-clad and pregnant Georgina in his loft. However, forgetting that he had an almost undressed girl waiting for him as he leisurely conversed with (let's be honest, mooned over) Blair Waldorf was a new low.

Staring at Sam and sort of hoping that he, himself, could just disappear, he heard Blair stand up.

"Sam, was it?" she asked, calmly extending her hand in a very un-Blair manner. Perhaps, Dan thought, this wouldn't be so bad. "It's nice to meet you." she continued. Grabbing her hat and securing it on her head, she said. "My driver's waiting. I suppose I should leave." She began walking to the door. Looking back, she said with a beautiful and twisted smile, "So I guess he should get shirtless again and attend to you."

Dan was glad that color had drained from his face earlier, otherwise he would be a very unattractive shade of crimson.

"See you in New York, Humphrey." She took one step, tilted her head. "I probably won't see you," she directed towards Sam. And with that, she swept back out the door very similar to how she entered.


	3. Chapter 3

"She seems delightful," Sam said, as the door somehow came to silent slam shut.

"That's a word. Not necessarily for her. But it is a word," Dan eeked out, having significant trouble looking Sam in the eyes.

"You looked comfortable. Are you two," her words trailed off, her face clearly too uncomfortable to finish the thought.

"No," he said unconvincing. Then. "No, no." _Once more with feeling_, he thought. "We're not like that. We're just friends," he said. He smiled a little. "Up until this year, we really couldn't stand each other." Sam gave him an accusing look. "She's actually engaged," he added. "To a prince. Her royal wedding is scheduled for November."

"Royal wedding?" she asked, fully perplexed and astonished. The mood was lifting and Dan finally felt like he could look Sam in the eyes again. "You keep saying you're from Brooklyn, but I'm not buying it."

"Look Sam, I'm so sorry." Words really couldn't explain just how horrible he felt about forgetting her in the other room, because to be honest, if she hadn't come out, he'd still be nestled on the couch listening to Blair, hoping that somehow her opening up would to him would end with an amazing revelation that really Dan was the man she was supposed to be with.

"No. It's alright," Samantha said, shrugging it off. "If a princess came to my door, I would see what she wanted too."

Samantha really was a wonderful girl, Dan mused. She was understanding, a trait Blair never truly mastered.

Dan silently cursed himself for comparing the two.

Really, there was no comparison.

"So, what did she want?" Sam asked, breaking his train of thought.

It was a good question. He hadn't really figured that out in the short time she was there. "I think she needed perspective." That seemed as good an answer as any.

"Did you give her some?"

"I'm not sure," he responded. "Look," he said, clearly needing to change the topic, "I'm getting kind of hungry. What do you say we grab some brunch and then try this day all over again?"

"Sure," she said, a mischievous little sparkle finally returning to her eyes. "Just let me go put on more clothes," she said smiling as she referred to the barely-there sun dress she had worn with the sole intention of tempting him.

It had worked at first and usually he would protest the addition of clothes, but his heart just wasn't in it anymore. Blair Waldorf was his cold, eye-opening, revelatory shower for the day. "I'll wait right here," he said, smiling.

He tried not to notice the sparkle fade.

"Good," she recovered. "I can't trust you'll come back when you say you will."

"Ouch," he said dramatically wincing as he held his hands in the air. "But I deserve that."

She smiled. "I'll be right back."

As he watched her pick up the bag she had left at the door, he felt the faint vibration of his phone in his pocket.

"_When you put your pants back on, you still owe me a movie. -B."_

He watched as Sam made her way down the long hallway to the bathroom. Feeling far less guilty then he probably should have, he typed, _ "Does it have to be a Monday or are we allowed to expand our options?"_

It was becoming a pesky flaw of his. He just couldn't help but respond when Blair Waldorf beckoned.


	4. Chapter 4

After brunch, Dan dropped Sam off at her place and quite sickeningly (even to himself) immediately took out his phone to text Blair that he was available. He'd almost forgotten how pathetic he was when he liked someone. How much like a Labrador he really was - practically lapping at her heels, begging for attention.

The one consolation was that she didn't seem to mind. In fact, she was the Rhodes's Hampton house before Dan even got back from dropping off Samantha.

"I was hoping I could stay here for a few days," she said with what looked like a hat box in her hand and luggage around her feet. "The thought of going back to an empty city just wasn't very appealing."

"Well, I don't know if I have the room," he responded, waving his hand in the direction of the palatial home in front of them. He picked up her two bags smiling and said, "I guess I can squeeze you in."

They spent the day lounging around, talking less about art and culture, and more about how lackluster their summers had been. Blair revealed that while Monaco was beautiful, her schedule didn't give her much time to do anything other than shake hands with dignitaries and smile politely. Dan said that there were no good books out, and seeing how books seemed to be his only friends this summer, he had truly lived up to his moniker of "Lonely Boy".

"Only friends, huh? You seemed to have had a friend over earlier today." The comment was meant to be light, but there was a sharpness in her tone that neither one could ignore.

"Yeah, well," he said, searching for the right words. "Samantha has been a great distraction for an otherwise dreary summer."

"We should get out of here," Blair said with a start. "I'm starting to get dreary as well cooped up in this marble mausoleum."

"How about a movie? There's a classics theatre a few roads down from Main Street," Dan suggested.

"That sounds perfect. Just let me change," Blair responded.

Dan quickly looked her up and down, something he hadn't really had a chance to do all day because he was too focused on her really being there. Before realizing he was speaking, he said, "You don't need to. You look beautiful."

It was true. She did. She usually did. Actually, to be honest, she always did. But he silently cursed himself anyway because he didn't say she looked beautiful the way a friend would. He said it the way he felt it, which, to be honest, was nowhere near how a friend would say it.

She studied his face for a moment. Her mouth opened once, then shut. She grabbed her handbag off of the couch. "I guess I can go out in this then." She took his arm in an very uncharacteristic way and led them to the door. "Are we walking or should I call around my car?"

"I was thinking I could drive," Dan said, trying to keep a smirk from forming on his mouth. Past experience had taught him that Blair Waldorf did not appreciate his mode of transportation.

"Oh great. Are we using that tin can your father calls a car?"

"You can have shotgun," he said jovially.

"Wow Humphrey! You know how to show a lady a good time."

But when he opened her door for her, she didn't complain.

She complained about his driving and his stopping and lack of parking skills. She complained about his outfit and suggested that maybe he was the one that should have changed before their outing. But she never complained about being with him in what she deemed a tin can.

When they arrived at the theatre, she seemed to have run out of Dan-related complaints so she finally began complaining about Samantha.

Dan's hands were full of two bags of popcorn (one with butter, one without - even though they both knew she would be eating his popcorn with butter and then ask him to go out during the movie to put butter on hers once his was empty), a soda, candy, and his wallet, when he heard he say, "She just seems tacky is all. How can you go from Serena Van der Woodsen to that? It's like the difference between a yacht and a dingie."

He had to stop himself from chuckling. Blair's acerbic tongue was cruel but alarmingly comical. He finally settled on, "That's mean, Blair." Simple. True. To the point. He even borrowed his father's judgmental tone for the words.

"The truth hurts," she said popping a buttered kernel into her mouth. His words not affecting her at all.

"The tickets are in my wallet," Dan said gesturing to the wallet precariously held amongst the popcorn, candy, and soda. "Can you grab them for me?"

As she began to open the trifold wallet, a picture of a small baby smiling fell onto the ground.

She reached down for it, glancing carefully. "Is this," she began.

"Milo?" a dark cloud began to shadow his eyes. "Yes."

The two of them stood in silence for a moment. An awkward, when-will-this-end silence.

"Would you mind putting that back in the wallet?" Dan finally asked.

As she fingered through his wallet to find a suitable home for the picture, she commented, "That whole ordeal was really hard on you, wasn't it?"

"Losing Milo was the toughest thing I've ever had to go through," he said, the sincerity of words weighing down even on Blair. "I loved him so much. He was a part of me."

"But he wasn't even yours," Blair said.

"He felt like he was."

"But your life is so much easier without him," Blair said beginning the walk towards the theatre.

Dan stopped for a moment, finding Blair's eyes. "That doesn't mean my life is better without him."

The moment was heavy and thick - a viscous syrup coating the entire conversation. It was far weightier than either wanted it to be. So, in typical Blair-fashion, she lightened the mood. "Remind me to destroy Georgina again when I get the chance," she smiled.

And Dan smiled too. "You really have dreadful taste in women, you know," she continued.

He took a step forward. "That I can agree with. Remember when I dated that movie star?"

As they walked into the movie, laughing slightly, the mood was lighter. They even decided to sit next to each other. But the taste of the Milo conversation seemed to linger with Blair.


	5. Chapter 5

Dan Humphrey woke up with a grin on his lips, a kink in his neck, and a Blair Waldorf breathing softly beside him. Her feet prompted up in his lap, she had somehow taken over the majority of the sofa as they had stayed up all night laughing and making fun of infomercials and bad music videos that only came on in the wee hours of the night. He was fairly certain he had ordered some random kitchen gadget that he would never use because thinking back, he had had it shipped to the Hamptons house. And while he wouldn't mind staying here as Blair's glorified foot rest, reality in the shape of school was quickly approaching.

He got up quietly as to not wake Blair. One of the many topics they had discussed throughout the night was her recent bout of insomnia. Watching her restful body slowly inhale and exhale as she dreamed gave him a sense of peace that he did not want to disturb.

He padded silently towards the bathroom wanting to freshen up before he began cooking a traditional Humphrey breakfast. En route, he saw his cell phone sitting on the bathroom counter. Picking it up, he noticed two missed calls and one text message. _We need to talk - Sam._

Scrawling a quick note and leaving it by the sofa Blair was resting upon, he left the house. Samantha was a morning person, and he knew she would be awake. He had an ominous feel for which he wasn't sure of its origin. It could have been the text message, or it could have been the pit of his stomach telling him it was time to give up on trying to be distracted away from his obvious Blair-longing. Samantha had been kind and sassy and intelligent, and how Dan was using her was not fair.

He was formulating just how he was going to break the news when he knocked on her door.

Those thoughts fled like cockroaches as a light switched on when she answered the door with an accusing, "Where were you last night?"

Taken aback, he stammered, "I was out with a friend."

"It was Blair, wasn't it?" she said, nearly huffing and walking away from the door into her living room and then her bedroom.

Dan followed. "Why do you say it like that?" It was reactionary but inappropriate. She had every right to say it that way. She just didn't yet know why.

She sighed. "Look, it's fine that you're out with a friend. It's just..." her words trailed off as she lost eye contact with him. She looked ashamed but also resentful. "I did something I shouldn't have done last night."

Thoughts raced through his head. Did she come by and see him sleeping on the sofa with Blair? Although completely innocent, especially from Blair's perspective, Dan could see that as being misconstrued. "What did you do?" he finally croaked out.

She picked up his laptop from the counter it had been laying on. "You left your laptop at my place and," she couldn't maintain eye contact to save her soul. "When I first saw you on the beach, you looked sad," she finally said. Holding up the laptop, she finished, "And now I know why."

"Sam, did you?" Dan's tone was incredulous because he simply could not believe that she would do what she was implying she had done. "You read my emails?" Her small nod assured him that his fears were fitting.

He snatched his laptop from her hands. "That's," he began running one hand through his hair, "that's such an invasion of my privacy. How could you do that?"

"Well," she began, her tone not angry, just somber, "I can't believe you slept with me all summer when you were clearly in love with someone else." She sat down on her bed, resigned. "I suppose that was an invasion of different sort." Her voice was small, and it made him feel small as well.

He sat down next to her. "Touché, I suppose." He sat his laptop down and took one of her hands into two of his. She didn't pull away, but she didn't look at him either. "Sam, I want you to know that I was wishing, hoping really that it would go away. I had no intention of leading you on. I really liked you." It was genuine. Samantha had been the one thing keeping him relatively sane all summer. Without her, he probably would have gone Kerouac and lost himself on a journey across American or Hemingway and set up shop in the Keys swearing off women and swearing on fish and six-toed cats.

"I liked you too, but as hot as you are, I don't go for guys who are taken."

"But I'm not taken." After all, it's not denial when you sort of believe it.

She laughed, a small laugh that bubbled up in exasperation. "Yes, you are. You just won't admit it yet." Samantha leaned forward and kissed his chastely on the lips. "Goodbye Mr. Humphrey. It's been a nice summer fling, but your pores look fully exfoliated," she said, a nod-and-wink to their first conversation. "I don't think you need the likes of me kicking sand in your face any longer."

Dan looked down at the hand he was holding. "You're a real class act, Samantha," he said squeezing her hand and then letting go.

He stood to leave, but stopped when he heard her voice. "Please tell me that I'll at least be a short story," she called behind him.

He glanced her way and said, "The red hair alone constitutes a short story."

"Don't forget the short skirts," she said smirking.

"Oh, how could I?" He said exaggerating an eyebrow wag.

He turned again, his laptop cradled in his arms, set to leave.

When he was close to the door, he heard her voice once more. "You should tell her Dan." Sam was standing in the doorway of her bedroom. She looked earnest and sweet, her red hair flowing over her casual tank top.

He laughed quietly to himself. "That's maybe the worst idea you've ever had."

She took one step forward. "Being honest is hard, but if you don't take the risk, you'll always be left wondering."

It was good advice. He was pretty sure he had given similar advice long ago in a time way before he knew the Blair Waldorf he knew now - way before she was a friend/crush/secret obsession.

It was good sound advice, but he wasn't sure he was going to take it.


	6. Chapter 6

When he arrived back at the house, Blair was up reading a book in the study in a flowy pink dress. Her hair pulled back perfectly, her heels on the floor, and her feet tucked under herself, she almost looked like a painting. Effervescent and serene.

"You're back," she said, setting her book down. "How was your errand?"

"Completed, and I come bearing food. You hungry?" he asked, heading towards the dining room.

"Famished," she responded, forgoing her heels and following him barefooted.

They began digging into a brunch of croissants, eggs, and fruit. It wasn't his typical meal, but he figured Blair would enjoy it.

"Where has that girl been?" Blair asked, initiating conversation.

"Girl?" Dan questioned between bites.

"You call yourself a gentlemen, but you don't know who I'm talking about when I say "girl"?" she said incredulously. "You were shirtless with her just the other day?"

Dan almost choked on his strawberry. He wasn't quite sure how to broach this topic. Should he be honest or should he avoid? Avoidance would be the path of least resistance, but he felt so cowardly taking that route. He took another bite of his eggs, chewed slowly, swallowed deliberately, and said as nonchalantly as possible, "Samantha kind of broke up with me this morning. Can you pass the orange juice?"

"Oh. Was that your errand?" Blair responded, passing the orange juice. "Pick up croissants. Get dumped. Drop by the produce section for strawberries. I'd laugh if I thought pathetic was amusing."

Dan just grunted in the affirmative.

"Well, I'm glad she's gone," Blair said definitively. "Who wants to date a townie anyway. You're not Nate. You shouldn't have fallen for that bumpkin kind of charm."

Dan chuckled. "I'd hardly call a Hamptons' native a bumpkin."

"That's because you're from Brooklyn. Trust me on this one." Blair took a second croissant, spreading Nutella and strawberries on top. "If you don't mind me asking, why did she break up with you?" she asked, rather abruptly.

"Actually, I do sort of mind."

"What, is the wound too fresh?" she said almost laughably. "Did the summer fling leave a paper cut?"

She didn't want to the know the real answer, that he was sure of. He wasn't ready to share it with her either. Sam had left him with good advice, but at this point, were the risks too high?

He watched Blair eat contently. She had folded her feet up under her again, and he was enjoying the strangely domestic and comfortable feel of the situation. "Do you want the honest answer?" he said before really thinking it through.

She looked up at him, tilted her head and asked, "Is there a reason I wouldn't?"

"Probably," was all he could think to say.

His chair was only a few feet from her, but he felt the odd compulsion to scoot it closer to her. Close enough to her that he could touch her if he wanted. The act of moving closer was so familiar, so similar to his experience in her penthouse foyer the night they had kissed for the first time that he felt his head lighten. He would later blame that momentary blood lose to his brain for what he said next. "You see. There's this thing that Sam noticed. All summer long, I've been trying to get over someone."

His voice was low. Perhaps too low for her to have heard. But he wasn't so lucky. "What?" she asked, not because she missed it but because she required further clarification.

He stood up for a moment, beginning to pace in a small circle close to her chair. "I was hoping it would just go away."

"It?" Her voice was a mixture of shock and horror. He tried not to let it get to him.

"I suppose "they" would be a better word choice," he half rambled to himself.

She stood up, grabbing his shoulders and steadying him. "Humphrey," she said looking him straight in the eyes. "What are you talking about?" she asked letting go of his shoulders. "Is this about Serena? Because if it is, you really need to move on. Well, until at least she makes up her mind. Serena's not going to want you until she thinks she's lost you. That's how she works," she said, moving back to the table for the rest of her croissant. "Trust me. Maybe I can help you come up with a plan once she's back in the city."

"What?" Dan asked disbelieving that Blair could be so thick. "No, I don't need to scheme to get Serena."

"We'll call it a ploy. That sounds better," she said licking a bit of Nutella off of her finger.

"No," he said, slightly distracted. "This isn't about Serena."

"Charlie then? I'd give up on that one if I were you. She's back in Miami and if you want to talk about bumpkins, that one's got it tattooed on her head right beside 'crazy'."

He would have normally laughed at how she said "crazy" in a slightly high pitched tone, but his frustration with her was growing past her cuteness. "Blair, you're making this really difficult," he said, rather gruffly.

"You know I don't like your taste in women," she said casually, and apparently still oblivious. "We just had this conversation last night."

"Yes, well apparently I like girls who have no clue what's going on," he said mostly to himself.

"Charlie, is it then," she said, slightly self-satisfied at figuring it out and slightly disgusted looking. "Or should we call her 'Serena-lite'?"

Dan stood staring at her. Bare-foot in a pink Mark Jacobs dress, grabbing for a unprecedented third croissant, and completely clueless about what he was trying to communicate. "Blair, this is important," he said, waiting for her to turn her eyes to him. "I don't like Charlie. I mean, I like her but not in that way. And what I said about Serena this summer was accurate. I'm just not interested in riding the "will-we-or-won't-we" ride any longer. When I said I was trying to get over someone, it wasn't Charlie and it definitely wasn't Serena."

He let his comment sit for a moment, weighing down on Blair trying to ground her in his reality.

Her face changed from light to serious.

"It's not me, is it?" she asked somewhere between alarm and full understanding.

Dan didn't answer because to be honest, when he had said he wasn't planning on taking Sam's advice of full disclosure, he had meant it. He had had no intention of telling Blair Waldorf, formally of the infamous ChuckandBlair, and currently of the famous soon-to-be Princess Blair, that he, Lonely Boy Dan Humphrey, had been missing her all summer and thinking about her all summer and not getting over her in the slightest all summer. But somehow, he had ended up here. Not admitting it but clearly fully admitting it.

The summer wasn't even over yet.

The tourists hadn't left the Hamptons.

The city was still sick with heat.

If this were a tv drama, they'd probably still be in the season premiere.

A casual fan would be complaining about how quickly the writers were moving.

It was downright...

"Humiliating," he heard her harsh voice echo his thought. "This is humiliating," she said, this time her turn to pace in small circles.

The word felt like a cold shower. _Humiliating? _He figured they had moved past the mortification phase. "Wow. Really?" he said, his tone sardonic, but his eyes just plain hurt. "If that's how your treat friends, I think I'd rather go back to my old role of sideline irritant."

"You don't like me. That wouldn't be horrifying," she said.

"Horrifying? That's a bit much, Blair."

"No. Really. I thought we cleared this up last spring. Remember how it would affect Serena."

"Don't forget that it would be social suicide."

"And that!" Blair exclaimed.

"Yes. I know. And you're engaged," he said, his voice cracking sadly on 'engaged'.

"Yes. And I'm engaged," she repeated, adding for good measure, "to a prince."

"I know that," he winced.

"What were you thinking?" she said, thumping him on his shoulder.

He grabbed his arm instinctually. "I wasn't really thinking."

"Well, that's clear," she remarked snidely. Then much smaller, much more hesitant, "What are we going to do?" she said, slumping back into her chair.

"I'm not sure," he said sitting beside her.

For a moment, they were silent. Both pretending to mull over options, but really both just shell-shocked. "I suppose I should leave," Blair finally said.

"Maybe you should." He said it without thinking, and really he didn't mean it. But perhaps, he knew it would be best.

As Blair walked towards her room, Dan felt a sad sick thump in his chest. He had always known that telling Blair he had feelings beyond friendship would end in disaster, but somehow, he had hoped against hope that he would be happily surprised.

But he wasn't surprised. In fact, he was ending his summer even worse than how he had begun.


	7. Chapter 7

It was a warm night, veering on muggy as he watched a few insects dance fruitlessly around the light by the patio door. He guessed he understood the attraction. Being around something so bright and luminous was at times rewarding in and of itself. The light didn't really need to be an interested party in the whole interaction.

Dan sat by the pool, feet dangling in the water and writer's mindset mentally noting how the translucent layer somewhere between the pool's water and the night's air seemed to add a layer of depth to his heartache. It was his New York _Brigadoon_ - only this time there was no Scottish ingénue for which to fall in love. The role had already been cast.

He heard small steps click behind him, punctuating her entrance with each heel hitting pavement.

He didn't bother turning his head. He knew that purposeful gait anywhere. "You're not gone," he said, his words bouncing across the twilight mist forming over the pool.

She clicked her shoes off and sat beside him two large tiles down. Her safety zone, he silently remarked. Two cinema chairs down. Two sofa cushions away. It's where she always started.

But never where she finished.

"No, I'm not gone," she spoke softly as if not wanting to disturb the still of night.

They sat in silence. It wasn't a pregnant pause. They was no anticipation. No expectation. Just comfortable silence. Oddly comfortable silence given the situation.

She sighed gently. "You know, New York City is never empty," she commented.

"That's why they call it the city that never sleeps," he responded, still not glancing her way.

She sighed less gently. "I'm not here because the city is empty."

_Then why are you here? _he thought loudly enough that she may of heard.

But she probably didn't because they went back to silence. The occasional soft splash of her toe grazing the water. The insects still dancing for their light's non-attention.

"I'm here because I feel lost right now," she began. He would say almost timidly if she wasn't Blair Waldorf. "And when you're around," she continued searching, "I feel calmer." The 'calmer' was spoken slowly, the word rolling off her tongue liked a well-weathered and polished stone. She had clearly thought about it. "I'm still lost, but calmer."

Dan finally looked in her direction. Her eyes set forward, unmoving. Her jaw in a thin straight line. She didn't seem to like what she had just said, but it seemed true.

He didn't allow his hopes to rise, and instead, he turned back to the water. "What does that mean?" he asked in a dull tone.

"This summer, I lived for Mondays." The admission put a small but begrudging smile on her pink lips. "I missed New York so much."

He waited for an elaboration. Each lap of water with her toe like a giant clock ticking to something he thought might be important.

"Maybe I'm not ready to live in Monaco right now," she finally said.

"You said you lived for Mondays. Why Mondays Blair?" he pressed.

"Because I could talk about movies and not have to worry," she responded wistfully.

"Worry about what?"

"About not being right."

Now, he was confused. "Being right?" he questioned.

"It's just," she began and restarted. "In case you haven't noticed, I'm not a good person, Humphrey."

He shifted his weight over one tile, catching her attention. But she didn't move away. "Blair," he said with a quiet force, "when are you going to realize that there's nothing wrong with you. You deserve a happy ending." And then with less force, "Louis's a prince and he loves you."

Her body seemed to weep when he said 'Louis'. "Louis can't have the fairytale with me," she said, her usually perfect posture slumping slightly. "I'm broken."

She said it with a broken smile on her face.

Tears threatening.

The word packed with meaning.

"Broken?"

"Broken," she stated again, the word no less troublesome. Then added, "Tainted by Chuck Bass."

Dan groaned. Loudly, not really caring if it offended. To be honest, when it came to the topic of Chuck Bass, Dan just stopped caring about propriety. "That's a tad melodramatic," he said. "You're already right. You're more than that. You're beautiful and intelligent and intuitive and," noticing her eyes start to glaze over, he changed gears. "Chuck Bass is not a virus," he stated strongly. "He cannot infect you."

"You don't know how wrong you are."

Her tone was omnious and leading, and he wondered why she let that jerk have so much control over her. Exasperated, he let out, "What's going on Blair? You've left Monaco. You've stopped planning your wedding. You're here in the Hamptons with Dan Humphrey," he said, gesticulating at his own name. "Louis, he makes sense," he said more slowly. "Chuck's just a bad habit you need to break."

She took a deep breath. The words on the tip of her tongue so thick and weighted they were nearly choking her.

And suddenly, he was scared. Blair's words flowed freely in moments of joy and moments of despair. In moments of approval and moments of critique. In moments of genuineness and moments of biting barb. Blair Waldorf didn't stumble over words or fear them as they exited her mouth. They didn't choke her with significance.

He was scared of what she might say next.

"I'm pregnant."

The words plummeted to the ground like a world-destroying meteor, and Dan Humphrey sat dumbfounded.

"Flowy dresses are only going to cover it up for so long," she continued, regaining her free tongue.

He stared at her, unblinking.

"You can pick your jaw off the ground now," she retorted.

He didn't know what to say. What _do_ you say? "You have been wearing a lot of flowy dresses lately." _That was a dumb thing to say._ "And the baby's Louis's?"

She shook her head noiselessly. Shamefully. Regretfully.

"Chuck's?" he asked, trying his best to suppress all judgment. The fragile force of nature in front of him didn't need the judgment.

"Yes," she confessed. "I think so." Then, "I don't know." She dropped her head into her hands. "God, I feel like I'm in high school again."

Dan marveled at the odd symmetry of it all. In high school, Blair's pregnancy scandal had been the catalyst for admitting his love for Serena. And here today, admitting his feelings for Blair had potentially been the catalyst for dropping this actually-pregnant bomb on his life.

"My life is falling apart Humphrey," she moaned into her hands. Looking up, she said half in jest, "Are you still trying to get over me now?"

A fragile force of nature. He liked that. He'd have to remember to write that down. Sitting beside him, stormy yet calm, was one of the most beautiful and intoxicating and confusing and infuriating and rewarding women he had ever known.

He slide over one more tile.

She didn't move.

Her eyes were glistening, those threatening tears from earlier willfully being dammed.

His fragile force of nature.

He placed his hand gently on her bare shoulder and then her face and whispered, "Ask me again."

Her voice broke, and he drank in the little power he seemed to have over her in that moment. "Are you still trying to get over me?"

"Yes." And for a moment, everything seemed perfect. His mouth descending on hers. Her mouth moving against his. Soft. Slow. His head a mess of Chanel perfume and poetry waiting to be written.

A hazy fog of possibility.

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**Author's Note: Wow. I really appreciate all of the feedback! To be honest, I was not expecting that, and it's really kept me writing the story. When I started this story, it was sort of a thought experiment to see just how sad Dan Humphrey could be. I honestly feel like Dan's crush on Blair was becoming debilitating for him as the season ended, and I hoped the writers would explore that in the coming season. Anyway, in the past, I've always had an end in mind when I've written something. This is different. It's just kind of writing itself - which scares me because I don't really know if it'll end properly. **

**So, basically what I'm saying is that I apologize ahead of time to anyone reading this. I can't promise that my ending (which I don't feel is anywhere near) will be satisfying. I suppose no writer can honestly make that promise though. I do appreciate the feedback. I know that in parts, this story seems rushed. I'm working on that. Maybe not in this chapter so much...but the concern is on my radar.**

**Again thanks, and I hope you liked this chapter. **


	8. Chapter 8

That is until he felt her tiny little fists shove against him, catapulting her body about five feet away from his own.

"What is wrong with you?" she practically spit out. Very unladylike, he quickly noted and then quickly dismissed.

Awakening from the haze, he shook his head and said, "Excuse me?"

"What was that?" Her hand ran wildly into the air to emphasize 'that'.

Feeling the sting of her words, he snapped, "That was a kiss, Blair." She looked taken aback, but he continued. "One that you were actively participating in," he finished, wiping what he assumed was pink lipstick from the corner of his mouth.

"No," she sputtered. "I was not," she said, as if shaking her head would erase the last few minutes. "That wasn't a kiss," she added for clarification. "It was a mistake."

Dan looked down towards the water, grinding his jaw. He never felt so frustrated in his life. "Not the reaction I was looking for," he said quietly, between his teeth. "But I suppose it was better than you walking away without a word like last time."

"I need to leave," she said abruptly and motioned to stand up.

He grabbed her wrist gently. "Blair," he said, the low grinding tone wiped out and replaced with pleading. "Don't go." And added for measure, "We should talk about it or something." His response could have been lamer, or at least that's what he told himself.

"There is nothing to talk about," she said, jerking her wrist from his hand. "I'm engaged," she said slowly and patronizingly as she pointed to her ring finger.

The diamond caught a ray of moonlight and danced mockingly in his eye. "I know that," he responded dryly.

"And," she said continuing to exaggerate every word, "I'm pregnant." She didn't point at her stomach. That would have been too commonplace for Blair Waldorf.

"I know that too," the grinding tone returning.

"Then I ask again, what is wrong with you?" It was said with a saccharine tone, and it always amazed him how Blair could so sweetly crush a person.

"I just thought there was a moment."

She paused, seemingly caught off guard. Regaining her composure, she slipped her heels on and quipped, "Moments for engaged pregnant women who are _not_ your fiancés or baby-mommas are strictly prohibited in Saneville."

Deflated, he responded with a simple, "I'm sorry."

Looking down, she said, "I know." And then, "Louis will be in the city tomorrow night and I need to be there. I really am going this time."

He heard Blair's distinctive heels begin to click declaratively in what felt like the wrong direction, and he couldn't helped himself when he stood up and called out, "Blair."

She turned, her mahogany hair flipping through the night air. "Look Humphrey," she said with an air of dejection. "You can't tell anybody about this."

"About the baby?"

"That," she said, studying the ground and looking back up. She continued, "and your feelings and whatever that non-moment was. Let's just pretend this never happened. I never came to the Hamptons to see you."

He wasn't sure if she meant the words to cut. Sometimes, he was certain Blair never thought out the consequences of her words unless they were a part of a calculated takedown. Half in defiance to the hurt that was creeping into his mind, he countered, "But you did Blair."

"Not so that you would kiss me!" she said, her irritation clear. "In case you're not paying close enough attention to the scoreboard, I have enough problems right now."

Her voice was shrill and piercing, but it carried a valid point. "Fine," Dan relented. Then softer, "Are we really going to go back to the city and pretend this didn't happen?" Taking a step closer, he finished, "That I didn't just kiss you and that you didn't just kiss me back?"

"Yes." It was a simple answer. She stood her ground, not backing away from him as he inched closer. But after a moment, he saw her steel fade. "No," she said. "I don't know." Shaking her head, a curl fell onto her cheek. "To be honest," she said, locking eyes with him, "I need you right now Humphrey. It's not even difficult for me to say. I need you," she repeated, "but as a friend." His heart sank for just a moment. "Nothing more. Can you handle that?"

Slowly, he said, "Do I have a choice?"

"Don't worry," she replied. "Serena will be back from California soon and you'll be distracted."

He took another step forward. He desperately wanted to touch her cheek. Move away a stray piece of hair. Just stand close enough so that he could smell her gently in the night breeze.

But he didn't.

He had invaded her safety zone enough for the night, but he still needed her to know. "You just have no clue, do you?" _I don't want Serena. I want you. _He finished in his head.

He thought she may of heard his thoughts because when he finished in his head, he saw a faint blush flutter across the porcelain of her cheeks.

"I have to leave," she said, voice resigned and full of...

Sadness? Regret? Sorrow?

He couldn't tell. Perhaps he was just projecting.

Resigned himself, he acknowledged her statement with, "See you in New York, Blair."

She turned and left. Just like that. No pomp. No longing glance. No parting words to leave any hope in his heart.

When Dan arrived home the following day, too crestfallen to stay the rest of the week, he wanted to lay down, crank some alternative rock into his veins, and forget Blair Waldorf ever existed.

Instead, there was something waiting at the door.

It was simple brown box that looked as if it had been in many postal workers' hands. He noticed that there was no return address.

He walked into the loft, using his key next to slide across the taped opening. Inside, lay a book with a note on top.

_I hope you won't hate me forever, but genius can't be held back because you want to play nice._

_-Vanessa_

His heart raced as he lifted the note up to see a fully bound first edition of _Inside_ by An Insider.

As if he didn't have enough problems right now.

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**Author's Note: This is kind of where the story ended in my head, so I'm pretty much off the tracks following this chapter. That means I may not be updating as often. Once again, I appreciate the feedback, especially those who said Blair and Dan are in character. That's like the biggest compliment for me. I appreciate the constructive feedback as well. I also thought my last chapter was a bit on the ridiculous side (although, to be honest, I really wanted them to kiss). However, then I realized that it's a story set in the Gossip Girl universe, and I'm pretty sure this show has reinvented ridiculous at least 10 times a season.**

**On the pregnancy front, OMG, I did go there! But I did it for a reason. I told myself that if I didn't ignore it in my story, that maybe it would go away in real life. To be honest, that last 10 seconds broke my shipper heart. I was so excited to see Blair out of Chuck's suffocating grasp, and then "Boom! Hey audience, she might be pregnant. Suck on that for a summer!" I could have killed a GG writer if he/she had been in my living room. No lie. So anyway, I didn't want to steer clear of it because that wouldn't be respecting what the show has given us; however, I also feel that by not avoiding, maybe it will disappear. Clearly, my logical is irrefutable. **


	9. Chapter 9

**Helicopters back on the helipads. Rich socialites back in Barneys. The prodigal children return home from their summers abroad and I couldn't be more excited. But as we turn the page on summer, I hear that the our favorite crew of Upper East Siders is about to turn the page on a scandalous tell-all. What secrets will be revealed? What secrets are even left? I, for one, am looking forward to the gossip competition. Bring it on "anonymous insider". XOXO.**

Sitting in the back row of lit class, Dan groaned at his syllabus. One week into class and he already had a paper due in two days. He usually relished in a chance to discuss feminist awakening in Norwegian literature, but that was before. Before he decided that writing was never going to actually bring him happiness, before his life's work showed up on his doorstep bound and ready to obliterate every relationship he held near and dear, before he felt so empty he just had nothing left to put on paper.

He pushed through the lecture hall doors when class ended, thinking about dropping the class as he searched for coffee. His eyes were hooded from a serious lack of sleep. The bound novel had been sitting in its box at the foot of his bed - and it was ticking, ticking like a time bomb. His tell-tale heart throbbing and robbing him of any sense of peace or sleep.

Handing over a few dollars, he grabbed greedily at the almost stale college-brewed liquid. Its harsh warmth tore through his throat but did its job of waking him up. His eyes adjusted to the bright light of day, and he realized, perhaps being awake and conscious was not what he needed.

Grabbing his cell phone, he typed a quick message. "_I'm in need of a distorted reality. You in? - Dan"_

Waiting a moment, he felt the phone vibrate in response. "_Tell me the time. I'll tell you the place. - Nate."_

* * *

><p>Dan downed another shot of whiskey, slamming the shot glass onto the bar. "Man," he said, he speech nearing slurred, "I need to tell you something." Nate eyes fixed on him for a moment before wandering off to follow the backside of a woman who just entered. "Vanessa," Dan said, no longer approaching slurring territory, rather permanently located there, "she's just terrible. What did either of us see in her?"<p>

Nate turned his attention back to Dan with a slight smirk. "Well, she did that thing where she..." his voice trailed off when he saw the growl in Dan's glazed over eyes. "I'm just saying, she's not so bad," he finished off, weakly.

"She lied to us about Serena," Dan said, pounding his fist on the bar. "She was an accomplice to her drugging."

"Well, that was bad," Nate relented.

"And worse," Dan added, "she's a snoop."

"A snoop?" Nate asked with a laughter in his voice.

Dan tried to point accusingly at Nate, but failed as he almost fell out of his stool. "She found something of mine and now," he said, trying again to gesticulate wildly without falling out of his seat, "it's going to ruin everything!"

"I can't imagine that you have anything that would inflict that much damage," Nate said encouragingly.

Dan slammed another shot, shaking his head as the amber liquid ran down his throat.

Trying to count the number of shots in his head and realizing the number was nearing unhealthy double digits, Nate put his hand up when Dan ordered another shot. "Whoa, man. You might want to take it easy."

Dan slumped over the bar, putting his head on his arms. "I wrote something," he grumbled into his skin.

"You're a writer," Nate said. "That's not that shocking."

"I wrote something about us." The 'us' emphasized. "A novel."

Nate's eyes narrowed for a second. "Us?" he responded. "Are you trying to tell me something here Dan? You wrote a novel about us? Like "Brokeback" us?"

Dan lifted his head in shock. "No." he stated plainly. "No," he said shaking his head. Then stopping because the shaking was beginning to be painful. "Not that," he said, his tone cynical but also slightly amused. "I mean, you have pretty hair," Dan said, reaching out to swat Nate on the head. "I often wonder how you get it that shiny, but no. Not us," he said, motioning between the two of them. "I wrote a novel about us," Dan said drawing large circles in the air. "All of us. You, Blair, Serena, Chuck, my dad, Lily, Jenny. All of us."

"How is that going to ruin everything?" Nate asked genuinely.

Dan groaned. Loudly. "I was..." he said, searching for the right word and settling on, "I was honest."

"Oh." The small sound dropped from Nate in a loud thump. Honest was perhaps the scariest word in the Upper East Side.

"And now, it's published," Dan lamented. "Or it will be. Vanessa took it and published it. And now everyone is going to hate me." He cradled his head back in his arms.

"I won't hate you," Nate said, patting him on his back.

Dan lifted his head slightly. "In the book, you're a pot-smoking, slightly clueless playboy who's not even a main character."

"Ouch," Nate responded, but then nodded. "I can see that though. It is honest."

Dan put his head back down, partially to block out what he was going to say next and partially because his head was just too heavy to keep up. "What's Blair going to think?"

"Blair?" Nate questioned. "Why do you care? I'd imagine your book would be mostly about Serena."

"At first," Dan groaned. "But that's not where it goes." He sighed, lifting himself up again and motioning for the bartender. "She's going to be a princess. She doesn't need this right now."

When the bartender approached, Nate shooed her away. "You two really got close last year, didn't you?" Nate asked.

"It's not just about last year," Dan confessed. "God, she's going to think I'm a stalker or something."

"The people in your life love you Dan. They may be mad, but they won't turn their backs on you."

Dan looked closely at Nate. He looked like he was telling the truth, but it didn't assuage his worries. He let loose like a broken dam. "The thing is, I'm worried about my Dad's reaction. I'm worried about Serena's reaction and Jenny's reaction. I could care less about Chuck's. He's wretched. I'm worried about what this will mean for all of us. But what I'm scared about the most is what she'll think."

"What do you think she's going to think?"

"That I'm a pathetic loser."

Nate smiled - one of his twinkling smiles. "I think she already thinks that," he said thumping him on shoulder jovially.

"Thanks," Dan responded dryly.

"No problem," Nate said, still smiling.

Dan's face changed from mildly irritated to sincere. "She's going to know how I feel."

Nate tilted his head. "I don't think I want to know the answer to this, but how's that?"

"That's she's the most exciting and interesting person I've ever known."

"Wow," Nate responded. "I feel as though I may have neglected you last year. How did I not know about this?"

"No one knows about this."

Nate smiled again, not a twinkling smile, more of a knowing smile. "It sounds like they're all going to."

Dan dropped his head into his hands and groaned. "I need another drink."


	10. Chapter 10

**They say distance makes the heart grow fonder. But here in NYC, distance is so easy to cross with train, plane, and automobile. So what is it that truly makes the heart fonder? We're not sure, but we hear straight up alcohol makes the heart talk faster. Be careful Lonely Boy, drunk dialing can get you into a world of trouble. XOXO.**

Dan woke up, mouth smashed into what felt like silk sheets. Definitely not his sheets. Sitting up, he surveyed the room until the pounding in his head knocked him back to the sheets again. He grabbed a pillow, moaning into it as he covered his eyes from the offending light.

"Rise and shine, Humpty," he heard an incredibly unwelcome voice speak. "It's time for your eviction."

"Chuck." The word poured out of him as more an accusation than a name.

"Daniel." The tone was returned ten-fold. "Nate has left for class, so it's time for you to get going as well."

Removing the pillow, Dan sat up reaching for his keys on the side table. "My pleasure," he said, sweeping past Chuck and hoping he'd never have to see his smug grin again.

Riding on the subway home, Dan tried to piece together his night. Nate. Alcohol. Confessing his book. It was a lot to take in, but he had the nagging feeling he was forgetting something.

His cell phone buzzed and he looked down at a reminder that a paper was due in 24 hours. Maybe that was the lingering feeling.

He had the vague notion that it wasn't.

Working on the paper proved harder than anticipated. The hammering in his head made it virtually impossible to string together a coherent sentence let alone a plausible thesis. He sat staring at the screen, the blinking cursor ridiculing his poor choices.

When 1:00am flashed across his alarm clock, he knew he might as well take the failing grade. He had been working on the paper all day and so far he had only inked together an opening statement, one paragraph, and a partially formed conclusion. He got up to make a snack when he heard a light rapping against the door.

"Serena." He couldn't contain the shock in his voice. Standing before him with an oversized purse was the blond who started his whole descent into the Upper East Side.

"Dan, may I come in?" she asked, pausing for his answer.

Dan was a little taken aback. Not because Serena was standing in front of him; rather, because she was actually waiting for him to invite her inside. For the past year, women who came to his door never waited for a response. They either bound through his door clearly pregnant, walked in with barely a knock as though they already lived there, or snuck in to root through his things and potentially ruin his existence.

"Dan?" Serena asked again, fixing a quirky smile on her face.

"Oh," he said, waking from his thought. "Yeah. Of course." He moved aside, letting her stroll in. "What are you doing here? Aren't you supposed to be in California working on a movie?"

Serena sat her purse down and spun around to look Dan in the eyes. "Do you not remember last night?"

"To be honest, last night is a blur," Dan said, scratching his head and pointing to the headache medicine lined up on the bar counter.

"Oh. Wow," she said, moving closer to the counter and fingering the label on one of the bottles. "Then me being here must really seem crazy," she half-chuckled, seeming uncomfortable. "I hope I didn't wake you. I just got in from LaGuardia."

"No," Dan said, sensing her discomfort and growing uncomfortable in response. "I was up," he said, trying to bring about a sense of normalcy, "trying fruitlessly to write a paper."

"Norwegian feminism, right?"

"Or something like that." Right now, the paper was about six pages too short and fairly topicless. Giving it a theme would be generous. "What are you doing here Serena?" he asked again, no longer willing to wait for an explanation.

"You called me last night," she said, tapping the counter as she put his pill bottle down.

Trepidation danced through his head. (Danced was perhaps the wrong word. Trounced. Toppled. Yes. Those was better.) Why would he call her? What did he say? More importantly, why would Nate have let him do that?

"You look confused," Serena responded to his lack of a response. "I'm not surprised you don't remember. You were pretty drunk."

"I went out with Nate last night." As if that would explain why he was fall-down intoxicated.

"Maybe it was just nostalgia then."

"What was?"

"What you said last night."

The suspense was killing him. What could he have possibly said that sent Serena directly to the airport to book a flight home? "What did I say?"

She smiled warmly. "That you still love me."

The color drained from his cheeks. _He hadn't said that. Why would he say that? _"I said that?" His tone was so disbelieving that Serena winced in response.

"Well, yeah," she recovered, "and that you were worried about a big scandal that was about to drop." She took a step closer to Dan. "You wanted me to know that you never meant any harm. You were so serious and it scared me, so I got on the first plane home." She moved within inches of him and he fought the urge to take a step back, something he had never felt in her presence. "It's good to see you," she said, pulling him in for big hug. "I've missed you, Dan."

Her head pressed into his neck, and she smelled of summer and lavender and the past. She pulled back and asked, "Do you mind if I go freshen up for a moment? Then we can talk properly."

"Sure," he said, half in a daze and half in panic over what exactly they were to talk about.

He watched her pick up her oversized purse and make her way to the back of the loft where the bathroom was located. But before he had time to settle into his panic, he heard a substantially less gentle rapping on his door.

Before even opening the door fully, he watched a small brunette hurricane whip into the room. "Why are you doing this to me?" Blair demanded, holding what looked like a cabbage patch doll in her hands.

"Excuse me?" Dan asked, taken very much aback.

"I haven't slept in two weeks, and last night, I finally close my eyes and my phone rings." She was pointing at him accusingly. "Who calls someone at four in the morning?" she asked, her voice raising with each syllable. "Who raised you?"

"I'm sorry. I don't remember," he was going to say 'calling her' or 'waking her up' or 'being conscious at four a.m.' but then he noticed what was in her arms. "Is that a cabbage patch doll?" he raised quizzically.

"Yes," she stated, as though it made perfect sense that she would show up at his door at one in the morning bearing a cabbage patch doll and diva attitude. "You said on the phone that Cedric was lonely." And he had to give her credit because she didn't even break a smile at the ridiculousness of that statement. "Also," she continued with her usual urgency, "I don't care that you don't remember. I'm exhausted, and it's now your job to get me to go to sleep." She waved her hand in the air and said, "Work your mystic voodoo or tell me a boring anecdote. I'm not leaving this godforsaken loft until I've had at least one REM cycle."

To call himself bewildered would be an understatement. "What makes you think I can get you to sleep?" he asked, still confused but going with it.

Her tone settled for a moment, hinting at genuineness or perhaps just exhaustion. And as she laid her doll down on the table by the couch, she said, "The last time I slept through the night was with you in the Hamptons." She was avoiding eye contact, so he knew she was being honest.

Dan took a brief moment to revel at that thought. She had been complaining about insomnia over the summer, but she had also slept pretty soundly on the couch as she used him for a foot rest. That was a enjoyable night, easily the best of the whole summer. But before he could fully process the meaning of it all, a voice came from the back of the room.

"Excuse me?" The blond in the back of the room looked perplexed and...angry.

"Serena?" Blair's voice was sharp and piercing, and she immediately whipped her head back towards Dan with a suspicious eye-narrowing glare.

Serena stepped closer to Dan and Blair, completing the triangle in Dan's living room. "You were with Dan in the Hamptons?" she questioned. "I thought you were in Monaco."

Blair ignored Serena's reproving question and instead focused on Dan. "I seem to always show up when you're entertaining a lady." She looked hurt or defeated or...hell, he didn't know. Blair Waldorf was one of the toughest people to read, and at the moment, standing in his loft with two angry women and several bottles of headache medicine proving that he didn't have his wits about him, he wasn't fully capable of discerning her subtle changes in demeanor.

But he knew that he didn't want Blair walking away from this thinking that Serena was there for a salacious reason.

"It's not like that Blair," he quickly pleaded, also completing ignoring Serena.

"I guess I should be lucky you were wearing a shirt this time," she bit back, grabbing her doll off the table in a huff and heading towards the door.

"I'm lost," Serena announced, the anger gone and now just 100% perplexed. "Is that your cabbage patch doll?" her confusion growing exponentially. "What is going on?" she exclaimed.

"I'm leaving," Blair announced. "That's what is going on."

"Blair, don't leave," Dan said, racing after her and grabbing her wrist.

"Next time you drunk dial me," she said, twisting her wrist from his grasp, "don't expect an answer." Blair ripped her hand out of his and slammed the door behind her.

Dan stood dumbfounded - a door in his face and a heart in pieces.

"You drunk dialed Blair?" he heard Serena's voice ask behind him.

"I guess I was really concerned about that scandal," he whispered absentmindedly, tracing Blair's steps out the door once again.

"The scandal involves Blair too?" She sounded a bit dejected, as though Blair being involved somehow made Serena less important.

Dan turned around, shell-shocked at how truly messed up everything seemed to get in a matter of minutes. "It involves everyone," he said, walking towards his room, towards the copy of _Inside._

"I'm confused," she called in his direction.

Dan emerged from his room slowly, handing Serena the plagued book. "Read this," he said. "If you still want to talk to me, I'll be here."

"Dan, I don't understand."

"Just read it," he said, his shoulders lowered in defeat. "You need to leave. I still have a paper to write."

"But Dan," she started.

"Seriously, Serena," he cut her off, "you need to go."

Grabbing her purse, she turned around tracing the steps Blair took but with decidedly less fury.

Dan watched as she left his loft, potentially for the last time.


	11. Chapter 11

**Guess who's **_**going out**_** to dinner? Lily Rhodes-Van-der-Woodsen-Bass-Humphrey is finally foot fancy and ankle free and is looking to party with family. With several of our beloved characters in one room, I wonder what sparks will fly and what secrets will be revealed. Don't worry though, I'll share all the gossip as it happens. You know you love me. XOXO. **

A few days later, Dan felt like a man marching down his own green mile. Lily, officially off of house arrest, was throwing a family dinner to celebrate the end of her penitence, and he felt duty-bound to attend. The guest list was something left to be desired though.

Serena would be there; he knew that. She had decided to stay in New York for a few days but still hadn't contacted him. The longer she took, the more worried he grew. While Serena was forgiving, he could never really forget the way she turned on him after their breakup at Constance. The cruel, "you're only an ant" look she had given him as she trolled through the courtyard still gave him chills and rivaled any withering glare he ever witnessed from the queen herself, Blair Waldorf.

And while Eric and his father would both be there, he knew Chuck was also invited. Chuck alone was enough to ruin any night, especially his.

As he entered the front door of Babbo, chosen for the family feel, he sighed as he handed his jacket over, knowing that tonight, for the next three hours at least, was shaping up to be, ironically, his own personal jail sentence.

Dinner began with a clink. "To Lily," Rufus rejoiced, glasses held high in celebration. "For being brave enough to own up to past mistakes and paying for them gracefully," he finished, squeezing her hand gently, warmly.

As he sat down, Lily rose up. "Thank you all for coming," she said, the jewels around her neck sparkling in the soft Italian lighting but never outshining the look of heartfelt sincerity in her eyes. "I wanted to be with my family on my first venture out into the real world," she continued, smiling in the half smile Dan had grown accustomed to seeing on Lily's face when she actually meant what she was saying. "You all have been so supportive and kind. I really don't know how to repay you."

Another 'clink' was followed by food brought to the table.

As they ate, Dan tried his best to remain low key. In fact, he noticed that if he always had a fork in hand, no one expected him to talk. This was a blessing because although he was happy that Lily and his father were no longer shackled to the penthouse, he didn't have much to say on the topic.

He thought about it often, but nothing he pondered ever seemed appropriate for polite conversation. What if Lily hadn't made the choices she made? What if Serena Van der Woodsen never returned to Constance? What would his life be like today? His father may never have found his way back to Lily, and Dan may never have seen the true happiness that emanated from his father being truly in love. Jenny might still be wearing outfits with color, but he was pretty sure she still would have found a way to infiltrate the UES elite with disastrous results. And he may never have been invited inside.

_Inside_. That one word caused his fork to drop due to lose of appetite. If Lily hadn't lied and forged a signature, Dan may never have been an insider. He never would have seen the twisted and tangled inner workings of Manhattan's elite. He never would have known just how sun-kissed and lucky Serena was. Or how hapless and kind Nate was. How dangerous Chuck could be. How Eric was both understanding and knowing. Or how Blair was both infuriating and intriguing. Cold yet sincere. Weakened by insecurity, yet emboldened by loyalty and honesty.

And suddenly, Dan felt odd. He was celebrating the end of Lily's atonement for a sin Dan condoned in retrospect.

With the fork down, he heard an unwelcome sound beside him.

"Humphrey," Chuck laced the syllables together with disgust.

"Chuck," Dan responded. Chuck had spent the whole dinner with his attention directed solely on Lily. With a sudden lull formed as Lily, Rufus, and Serena rose to speak to a family they knew at another table, Chuck must have seen a prime moment to send a barbed comment his way. Dan felt his fists tighten instinctively under the table. "That's all we have to say to one another tonight, right?" he said, hoping to curb any hostility before it occurred.

Chuck sat for a moment, then nodded. Then, pronouncing slightly slower than most people, responded, "I'm alright with that." He stood from the table in the direction of the bar, sauntering off to the lively looking area.

Dan heard a chuckle beside him. Eric, who had been sitting and watching as he was apt to do, just smiled at him.

"How's Sarah Lawrence?" Dan said, suddenly feeling guilty for ignoring him the whole night.

"Surprisingly drama-free," Eric said. "I'm not quite sure what to do with myself."

Dan chuckled at his friends bewilderment. "Bask in the glow?" he suggested.

"I'm trying," he said, returning the laughter. "What about you?" he asked, this more serious.

"Not drama-free unfortunately."

"Hmm..." Eric pondered. "Blonde or brunette issues?" he asked, casting a glance at Serena. The blond was standing with her mother but fully glaring in Dan's direction.

The glower wasn't lost on Dan. "Um. Well." Dan said, rubbing the back of his head, "Both." It felt good to be honest, and it made his realize just how much he missed having Eric around.

"I was wondering why you two hadn't spoken since we began dinner," Eric said, swaying his head between Serena in the corner of the restaurant and Dan beside him.

"It's kind of a long story."

"Are there any other kind of stories?" Eric said, perceptively.

Dan smiled, patting Eric on the back. "I missed you, man."

They fell easily into small talk about Eric's roommate and classes. The new routines that filled his days. Dan had almost forgotten about how uncomfortable this night was until he heard a familiar golden voice say, "Eric, I need to talk to Dan."

Eric stood up, taking Serena's not-so-subtle hint. "Oh. That sounds good," he said mostly to Dan. "I'm going to go check in with Mom. It seems as though they have abandoned us for the bar," he said motioning towards their parents laughing over a glass of wine. As he walked away, he mouthed 'Good luck' to Dan.

Serena stood beside Dan's chair for a moment, hovering over him like the UES royalty she was. "Tell me something Dan," she said, sitting down beside him. "Tell me that the only reason you liked me wasn't so that you could gain access to the Upper East Side." Her voice was accusing, but also hurt. The shine in her eyes extinguished as she confronted him making him profoundly sad.

"So, you read the book," he responded and with a feeble attempt to liven the mood, said mostly in jest, "What did you think of it?"

"Answer my question," she pushed, unamused.

Dan exhaled slowly and looked into her eyes. "Serena, what we had was real." It wasn't exactly an answer, but it suited the situation.

He noticed a little of the sparkle return to her eyes. "I know that," she said. "But I need you to answer my question."

"Tell me that the only reason you agreed to date me didn't involve wanting to relive a failed attempt at courting a writer/teacher type." The retort looked to sting a bit, so he added, "Motivation doesn't always dictate genuineness."

She half-smiled, the same half-smile he noted on Lily's face earlier. "What we had was real," she said placing her hand over his on the table. "But it's over now, isn't it?" Dan watched any anger melt away from her eyes in a Serena-like fashion. She had always been a fire, burning brightly but quickly.

"I think so." The realization having power even over him.

"You were harsh in your book Dan."

"I know."

"Especially towards yourself," she said, squeezing the hand she was still holding.

"I figured I deserved the most ridicule," he said, pulling his hand away gently.

The action wasn't lost on her. "But Blair's character," she said hesitantly with a touch of the knowingness Eric trademarked, "you always seemed reverent towards."

"I called her 95-pounds of girly evil," Dan deadpanned.

"Yes," she said, smiling. "You did." Her smile growing larger. "But you also captured her strength and her resilience." She paused for a moment as his discomfort grew. "How long have you viewed her that way?" Her eyes searching for an answer.

"She's a strong character to write."

His simple but honest response didn't seem to satisfy Serena, but she moved on. "I don't know if she'd agree with that."

"Yeah, well, she's also stubborn and determined to be unhappy if it kills her. I can't help it if she doesn't see how strong she is."

"That last chapter," Serena began but couldn't seem to finish.

"That didn't mean what you think it means," Dan said, trying to salvage the moment from further embarrassment.

"Dan. Come on," she said. "I've known you for over four years. You've never been very good at lying to yourself." He dropped his head for a moment. "You should tell her how you feel." The words were honest but jagged, carrying a depth that Dan wasn't sure how to handle.

"I kind of already have," he practically whispered, not fully believing that he was having this conversation with Serena.

"Kind of?"

"Well," he said, looking back up at her and tilting his head, "maybe not the extent."

"Hmm," she said, her finger touching her chin. "Well, just so you know, at first I was really angry when I read your book." Dan hung his head at her confession. "So," she continued, "I did something that I thought would be _really_ hurtful."

Dan popped his head up in alert. "What was that?"

"I lent it to Blair."


	12. Chapter 12: Part 1

**When Alexander Graham Bell (or Elisha Gray depending on the source - never say I don't fact check) invented the phone in 1876, I wonder if he ever imagined our world of phone-clutching masses who rely more on picture messaging than they do their bestest of friends. Of course, it's not like I'm complaining. It is, after all, how I make my living. However, it is nice to know that some of us still make a true connection over the invention. While drunk-dialing got him into trouble, perhaps some sobering conversation could save our favorite lonely boy. We'll just have to wait and see. XOXO.**

The phone rang at 2:30 in the morning, rousing him from a rather embarrassing dream about interrupting a royal wedding. He groggily groped for it to silence its obnoxious sound, quietly hoping that he could fall back into the dream where he had left off.

That was until he saw who was calling.

"You've been a horrible friend," her voice barked over the line as he clicked the answer button.

"Blair," he said sitting up and grinning a bit at her abruptness, "you really need to stop starting every conversation with an accusatory statement." There was a slight rumble in his voice - whether it be from sleep or frustration, he wasn't sure. He looked at his clock again and groaned. "Also, when are you going to come off of Monaco time? Do you realize what time it is?" He fell back onto his pillow, exasperated but not at all distressed.

"Get over it Humphrey. I doubt beauty sleep would be helpful for you anyway," she snipped across the line. "The last time we spoke that you can remember," and he rolled his eyes at how elongated she made the 'you can remember', "I said that I needed you." Her voice changed a little, grew a little softer. "You said you would be my friend." And then her voice changed right back to demanding. "And what have I gotten in return? Two and a half weeks of nothing but a drunken call and a Serena in your loft. What kind of friend are you?"

Dan scratched his head, staring out his window at a bright full moon that he was certain was laughing at him. "I don't see how Serena in my loft negates our friendship," he answered, rubbing the back of his neck.

"You wouldn't," she scoffed.

Dan sat up again, his feet shifting to the floor. "What does that even mean?" he asked.  
>"You know, I just woke up," he said, standing in an attempt to jostle himself into complete awareness. "I can't keep up with you."<p>

"Like your wakefulness has ever allowed you to keep up with me," she quipped.

There was a quiet, slightly awkward pause as he paced around his room wondering why she would be calling so late. _Was she having a problem with Louis? Chuck? The baby?_ And then he remembered. Remembered what Serena had told him two days before and he had spent the next 48 hours trying to forget.

"I hear you're going to be a published author," she said, breaking the silence. And he shook his head because it felt as though she was listening to his thoughts, and he thought that maybe that action would dislodge her from his mind. "You never mentioned that this summer," Blair finished.

Panic swept through his body. "It was a surprise to me as well," he managed to eek out, feeling as though he was going into an autopilot mode that was destined to crash.

"How is that possible?" her tone skeptical.

"Vanessa found it in my office and took it to a publisher without my permission."

She laughed quietly, almost too quietly for him to hear. "Your taste in women is atrocious," she said.

"Tell me about it," Dan responded pointedly, smiling at the implication.

The silence returned. An awkward, unfamiliar silence. Staggering because for Dan and Blair, words were never difficult to find. And then Dan thought, _Why not? _His life was about to be published for the world to read. Naked in black and white print. There was no point in being timid anymore. "What did you think of it?" he asked boldly.

A silence returned, but not awkward, just contemplative. Her answer was hesitant, and he reveled in that because he had found the more hesitant Blair Waldorf seemed, the more honest she was being. "People don't usually write novels about shared life goals and stimulating conversation."

He smirked, understanding where she was going. "That's not really what the novel is about," he corrected but only to get her to discuss further.

"It's what I found the most interesting," she replied, and he could imagine her on the other side of the line turning her chin up in the cutely defiant way she did sometimes. "It's honest and satirical as the same time," she said, waking him from his imagination. "It pains me to say this," she said, drawing out her words, "but I think it'll be a big hit." And then added cheekily, "Maybe not in this crowd though."

He sighed. That smart comment bringing him back down to Earth in a thud. "That's what I'm worried about."

Sensing his desperation, she responded, "Dan, you're a good man. No one in your life worthwhile will turn their backs on you over this book." Then added for good measure, "They might leave you over your outfit, but not over the book."

He intuitively looked down to see what ensemble was offending her and laughed when he realized he hadn't even put a shirt on after leaving his bed. "You can't even see what I'm wearing," he said teasingly.

"That's not necessary," with the same about of tease lacing through her words.

"Did you call me just to insult my wardrobe?"

"No. I told you. I called because you're a horrible friend, and I'm thinking of revoking any friend rights you may of had."

"How can I make it up to you?" He enjoyed the tone; the back and forth was jovial and (could he dare think) bordering on flirtatious. He could hear her smiling on the other end, maybe thinking of terrible ways he could make amends for his neglect, and it caused him to smile in return. Although at times humiliating, Blair's ideas were seldom boring.

Then he heard her make a small noise, one that many people may not have noticed, but one he knew well. It was the small sound she made when transitioning from light to dark. From joke to serious, and he braced himself for what was to come next.

"Louis is leaving for Monaco tomorrow."

Worry ran through him like a river, pouring into his veins and catching in his throat. _Was she calling him to say goodbye?_ He hadn't really been on Blair's list of confidants since the situation in the Hamptons. He had no idea if she was planning on staying in the city until she graduated from Columbia or if her life plans had changed completely with Louis's engagement ring. "Are you leaving with him?" he asked, not even trying to hide the profound sadness he felt at the idea of being Blair Waldorf-less.

"No." Her answer was small and without a witty appendage. The one syllable seemed loaded in way, cocked straight at his sanity.

"Oh," he responded. Maybe she had called for comfort now that she would be missing her betrothed. She wanted him to be her friend, so he would stomach the awkwardness and be her friend. "Well, are you going to miss him?" No response, so he added, "I'm sure you can visit him soon. He has a private jet."

"You're so thick, you know that?"she said quickly, almost in an eruptive way.

"What?" He honestly didn't know what had drawn out that mean remark. "I thought I was being reassuring. It's only like an eight hour plane ride. You can do that in your —"

"Louis is leaving because I broke off the engagement," she said curtly, cutting off his rambling condolences and eliciting a sharp cough from Dan that snowballed into a shocked huff. "Do you need some water or something?" she asked callously over the line.

He collected himself from the bomb she had just thrown his way. _Why was she calling to tell him this?_ Part of him wanted to dance and then the other part remembered why she had called in the first place. "As your friend," he said slowly, trying to chart the right path in a murky, unsure situation, "am I supposed to be comforting you right now?"

"Yes, Humphrey. That's what a friend would do."

"So," he said, still grappling for the right words, "the prince is gone?"

"And your paraphrasing talents are amazing," she declared sarcastically. "Yes. Louis is gone."

"Did you tell him?" he asked cautiously.

"About the baby?" she sighed. "Yes. I also told him that I knew she wasn't his."

"She?"

"It's a feeling."

"When are you planning on talking to Chuck?"

"Soon."

"Well," Dan said, "if you need a friend…" and he left the last words off because he wasn't quite sure how to help her talk to Chuck Bass, but he knew he'd find a way when he was more awake.

The silence crept back into the conversation, twisting itself around Dan and tying him up into a bigger knot than he already was from Blair's revelation. It was becoming suffocating, so he did what he always did when he felt supremely uncomfortable – ramble. "Look, I'm sorry for abandoning you the last few weeks, but I promise you, I will be the best friend you've ever had. I'll check in every five minutes. I'm already online searching for best friends forever locking heart necklaces. I'll make sure to buy them in both silver and gold so they match every outfit. I know that's important to you, not that I'm expecting you to actually wear them. They're more symbolic really of what a great friend I will –"

"Dan," she said, cutting him off and putting him out of his misery, until she said, "I'm not really interested in being your friend right now."

"What?" he said, verging on desperate. "I said I was sorry. You know, I just needed some time after the Hamptons. That was kind of heady and—"

"Dan, I read your _entire_ book," she said, again cutting him off. "I was under the impression that you weren't interested in being friends either."

Dan narrowed his eyes, absorbing her words slowly. "In the Hamptons," he began hesitantly, "you made it pretty clear that you weren't interested in that."

"No," she declared. "I made it clear that I had a lot going on."

"Blair, what are you trying to say?"

But before she could answer, he heard a definitive knock on door. Dan padded slowly across the living room, inhaling slowly at the possibility he wouldn't admit on the other side.

Opening the door, Dan couldn't help but smile.

The woman from his dream was standing right there and he didn't even have to interrupt a wedding, so he said the only word he could think of.

"Blair."


	13. Chapter 12: Part 2

For a moment, Dan thought he saw fear flash before Blair's eyes - a feeling he would never associate with a Waldorf. He blinked, rubbing any sleep out of his eyes, and whatever the fleeting emotion was was quickly replaced with a spry glint as her eyes danced across his midsection. "Shirtless, I see," she said, the familiarity of her words causing even him to grin. Then, more serious, "I'm assuming there's a woman back there somewhere, yes?" she said, craning her neck around the door as she slipped her cell phone into her purse.

Rolling his eyes, Dan replied wryly, "I was sleeping, Blair."

"With?" Her perfectly manicured eyebrow rising coyly to match the question mark.

"With no one," he said plainly. _Unless you count the girl I was dreaming about_, he continued silently. And then added audibly and more seriously than he intended, "We won't be interrupted this time."

His arm draped across the door frame and her eyes grew dark at the subtle implication. "I've come to talk," she said, shaking her head a little.

"Ok," he breathed, suddenly his heart pounding against his ribcage. He wasn't sure why exactly, but the way she was looking at him felt monumental, as if her eyes were drawing a line in the sand denoting 'before' from 'after'.

She inhaled lightly but slowly and looking dead-straight into his eyes said, "A while back you told me that if you ignore the signs the world is giving you that makes you a coward."

"Do you want to come in?" he asked, realizing that perhaps the hallway wasn't the place for 'monumental'. She nodded, walking slowly by him and sitting her handbag down on the table by the door.

Suddenly aware of just how shirtless he was as she brushed past him, he grabbed for a flannel shirt hanging off the back of a chair as he sat his phone done on the bar.

"Don't get dressed on my account."

Her voice, light with playfulness, tickled his mouth into an impossible smile. "Don't get me wrong," he said, looking up and trying to button the shirt. "I don't mind you being here. But, why are you here?"

Her mouth motioned for words, and then paused. She swept an errant lock of hair away from her face, and said slowly, "Your last chapter surprised me."

The fact that she had read his book and that had somehow brought her here filled him with a small amount of daring. "I don't know why," he challenged. "That's kind of where all the signs pointed, wouldn't you say?"

She gave him an odd look, as though she wasn't expecting the bravery of his words. "I guess I expected..." she trailed off and then settled on, "I wasn't a villain."

"I keep telling you that you're not a bad person," Dan said, moving away from the chair and closer to her.

"I just thought you were misguided," she said, turning her chin up defiantly. And then less defiant, "She was strong."

"You're strong." The rawness in his voice catching in his throat.

She lowered her head for a moment and then raised it a few degrees. "She was so much like your character."

Her eyes were large and doll-like but with so much world behind them. "Both characters just want to be accepted," he said, taking another small step towards her. Talking about the novel was giving him strength, as though the fictional world was bleeding into reality. "They just want acceptance," he repeated, "preferably for who they are."

Her head nodded in agreement. "The ending was beautiful." _Just like you_, he thought. "Just the two of them," she continued. "Watching their world and making fun of it. Together." Her voice was filled with wonder. "While I was reading, I hoped it would end that way, but I just couldn't believe." She stopped, looking down again. "Everyone always chooses Serena."

And his heart broke a bit at the declaration and the certainty in her tone. He took another small step closer. "That's not true."

"Yes," she said, shaking her head in affirmation. "Well," she said after a moment of consideration, "the one person who always chose me also chose to trade me for a hotel."

The Chuck mention was like a bucket of ice that somehow also enflamed his fury. "Yeah," he said, gritting his teeth a bit, "that's not really my MO."

"I've noticed."

He turned towards the bar to calm him temper. "You thirsty?" he asked, over his shoulder.

"Sure." She moved with him, settling into the chair across from him.

"I'm assuming you don't want tap," he said, pouring from a bottle of water.

She scrunched her nose at the word 'tap', and he smiled because even in the middle of 'potentially monumental', Blair could still be such a snob.

Reaching across the bar, their hands touched as he handed her the glass - the simple act charging the room.

She moved her hand back slowly to her side. "Last year, you were the only person who was there for me."

He let her words wash over him, feeling profoundly sad that this beautiful and capable and loyal and intelligent woman went an entire year feeling almost alone. "I'm sure that's not -"

"You," she said, interrupting his polite condolence, and plowing forward "were the only person telling me that Chuck was wrong for me. You encouraged me to find my Prince, and I thought I had," she said, a look of small determination in her eyes. "But I spent the whole summer waiting for your emails." His heart pounded louder with each word. "And I spent the whole summer trying to rest, and it wasn't until I was with you that I felt calm enough to lay down."

Her voice grew small, and she captured his eyes with her own. "I've been fighting it this whole time because I knew what it would mean. I knew that Serena would be upset. I knew that our society would not be able to handle it." She smiled to herself. "I was pretty sure I wouldn't be able to handle it, but I've stopped caring," she said definitively, decisively, her voice growing bolder. "I'm tired Dan." The pleading look in her eyes making him want to jump over the counter. "I'm tired of running. I'm tired of waiting. I'm tired of acting like it's just you who's feeling this way. And most of all, I'm tired of caring about what everyone else will say."

"What they'll say to what?" he whispered, too scared to shatter the moment and maybe wake from what must be a dream.

"Last spring," she said, swallowing, " I convinced myself that kissing you meant nothing. But this summer, by the pool, that wasn't nothing." She paused shaking her head, and he used the moment to begin his way around the counter. "I kept hoping it would be nothing. I kept hoping that it would go away. But it hasn't. No amount of wedding planning or baby worrying or denying has made it go away." And by that point, Dan had made it around the counter, so close her breath hitched with the next words. "And the truth is, I don't want it to." He placed his hand by hers on the counter, absently playing with her fingers as he drank in her words. "I like myself when I'm with you." And then admitted, "I like being with you. Even when we're in Brooklyn," she added looking around distastefully. "I guess what I'm trying to say is that I like you Humphrey." She huffed - the realization looking like it left a bad taste in her mouth.

And he smirked, because even in the middle of 'definitely monumental', Blair could still be such a snob.

"Don't look too excited," he chuckled, one hand still playing with her fingers on the counter and his other settling on the chair's cushion beside her. The closeness making him lightheaded.

"Am I supposed to be excited about liking a plebian like you?" she feigned, but the closeness seemed to be affecting her as well - her breathing now jagged.

Which wasn't lost on him. "I guess when you put it that way," he said, leaning in.

"This is horrifying," she declared weakly.

He felt her finger tips slip against his, and he said, still close, "I really think you're going to have to find some new adjectives to describe us," emphasizing the 'us' by threading his fingers in hers and grasping her hand.

Her lips curled subtly. "You do realize that I'm pregnant. With Chuck Bass's baby."

Not phased, he replied, "We all have exes, Blair."

"And what about Serena? You're still not over her."

He lifted his hand from the chair, placing it on her cheek, and remembering another time, what felt like ages ago in the Hamptons when he wasn't brave enough to say it, confided, "You just have no clue, do you?" Brushing her skin as though he was trying to memorize it, "I don't want Serena. I want you."

Her breath caught in her throat. "This isn't going to be easy."

"No offense," he smirked, "but nothing with you ever is."

His thumb traced a lazy circle by her jaw. "You know you have a white knight syndrome. I don't want to be another damsel in distress that needs saving," she said building steam.

He laughed quietly. "I promise to leave my sword and shield in the closet."

"And you're seriously going to have to burn this outfit," she said, touching the collar of his flannel shirt.

"I'll wear whatever you want me to wear."

"Really?" her tone verging on scandalous.

"Really," he said, and quickly added, "as long as it's not purple."

She sighed, resting her head on his chin and speaking quietly into his chest, "How is this going to work?"

He ran his hand down her jaw, lifting her face in his direction. "We'll figure it out."

"But what if we can't?"

Her brunette eyes shining up at his with question and...hope? "We can," he stated, and it felt like the most honest thing he had said in a long time.

"Maybe," she said, hedging, "we should think about this some more before we make any hasty decisions."

"To quote you," Dan said, his voice calm with no frustration, the woman of his dreams and his novel sitting saddled between his arms, looking up at him for answers, "oh, for crying out loud, Waldorf." His mouth closed the small but until now insurmountable gap between them. His mouth moved against hers. Soft. Slow. Steady. No need to rush - he knew she wasn't leaving.

His head was a mess of Chanel perfume and poetry waiting to be written, and the potent combination made him pull away and look deep into her eyes to say, "I think I may be in love with you."

She rolled her eyes teasingly. "Don't ruin the moment," she murmured, dragging his lips back down on her own.

And he silently agreed with her, feeling her hands pull him in closer, because for the first time, he didn't need to worry about her leaving or scoffing or denying. He was certain she would be right there and she would stay there. In Brooklyn. In his arms. Where she belonged.

**This just in: Lonely Boy and Queen B are officially a couple. I'd say something witty if I wasn't currently in shock. Can't wait to see where this goes and what kind of waves it creates. One thing for sure, it's got to be interesting. XOXO.**

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**Author's Note: This is it. For now. I think. I don't know. *Shakes head.* (Notice that I haven't clicked the "Story Complete" button yet.)  
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**When I started this story, I really wanted to explore Dan's pining, and I wanted him to get the girl. That's where this story started and where I'd like to end it. I feel bad though because many of you have expressed an interest in seeing how the whole baby/Chuck angle plays out. I fear I muddled my story up with her being pregnant, but that's what I believe the writers wanted us to believe via the cliffhanger ending. In my heart of hearts, I really don't want Blair or Serena pregnant. I think making Blair pregnant writes her into some lame Princess Di-esque accident that causes a miscarriage. I find that idea to be cheap and sad. If you want to shock the audience with a pregnancy stick, at least have the balls to carry out the pregnancy, you know? Also, if Serena is pregnant, I see the writers using Milo's story last year to set up a Dan/Serena reunion. Yuck, squared.**

**As you can probably tell, I hated that last 10 seconds. Having said that though, I refuse to ignore them. There are too many awesome fanfic stories that just pretend those last 10 seconds never happened, and that bugs me a little. I think part of what I love so much about the Dan character is his capacity to support and take care of the ones around him. I honestly think he's man enough to handle the pregnancy storyline. Plus, we know he has the capacity to love a child even when he knows the child is not his biologically.**

**I've rambled on long enough. I hope you've enjoyed this story. I really, really appreciate the feedback and would love to know what you thought of this ending - think of it as a season finale with the possibility of a pick-up (aka: sequel). I had fun writing this and your feedback has really encouraged me.**

**Also, tonight, as I was writing, I got sidetracked looking through old Dair-related links. I watched ****DefiningBeautyNet's "Just remember who I am" video on youtube. I watched several Dair scenes as well, including the _Rosemary's Baby_ split screen and _The Philadelphia Story_ couch scene. Then, I started rereading fanfiction from my absolutely favorite Dair author somewhereonlyiknow. She's absolutely phenomenal! (Seriously. If you haven't read her stories, you need to stop reading my crap and hightail it over to her page.) I noticed a similarity I wanted to apologize for. In one of her stories I read back in April when it was published, in a drunken message, Dan makes reference to Brokeback Mountain and Nate's shiny hair. I should have realized that when I wrote that that I was not that clever. Sometimes, ideas stick in your head and you forget that they didn't come from you. I'm thinking about going back to chapter 9 and amending it. Either way, I'm sorry for the idea stealing - it wasn't intentional, but I feel like I need to apologize anyway.  
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	14. Blair Chapter 1

**Author's Note: Okay, okay. So maybe I avoided the baby thing a little. **

**(Just a little though.) **

**(Okay, a lot.)**

**Perhaps, I was swept up in my Dan/Blair moment - the swelling orchestra, the sqeeable moment, the image of them kissing. *sigh* But I don't think that's at all unrealistic. Often when we have a lot going on (as in the case with Blair), we have to deal with the whole mess one step at a time, and that's what my last chapter was: Blair coming to terms with her feelings for Cabbage Patch and Dan finally getting the girl (albeit with caveats).**

**So, while in the shower today (my quiet place of contemplation), I realized that I needed to continue this. That I needed to deal with the "baby thing" (to put it eloquently) and *groan* Chuck. (I used to love Chuck. What did the writers do to him!) So I mapped out a story in my head and instead of making a sequel, I'm just going to change point of view. I've been dreading writing Blair's POV because , well, I guess I just get Dan better, but as a writer, I wish to grow and what better way than by forcing myself to do something I'm uncomfortable with, right?**

**I hope this silences some of my critics. Although, it _was_ kind of nice feeling like a misunderstood GG writer. (Not that I really think they're misunderstood, those bastards!) Also, **_**realchemistry**_**, I can't stand when people don't finish stories, so that won't be a problem. I've only ever abandoned one story. It was about Dan Scott from **_**One Tree Hill**_** - a character I adored for all of his intricacies until he became a **_**murderer**_** who **_**murdered**_** his brother by **_**murdering**_** him. I just couldn't stomach that. So, while I plan on finishing this before the show starts up in September, I don't foresee any murdering keeping me from writing it ;)**

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Blair awoke with one thought in her mind: _How did I get here?_

Lying on a lame brown comforter as the dusty Brooklyn sun floated in through the window, she couldn't quite place the sharp right turn her life must have taken to put her square in the arms of Dan Humphrey. And while there was a certain appeal to the brown curly mess on the top of his head that begged for a haircut and the hardness of the chest that lie beneath her rising and falling steadily, she wondered exactly how she was going to explain this to everyone in her life. This being the steady and calming buzz she felt cradled in his arms. The soft sting on her lips from a night of making out. The warmth that erupted in her heart when he whispered her name close to her ear and said goodnight. Part of her wanted to hole up in Brooklyn and never leave. Never face the Upper East Side and its fickle judgment. The other part still couldn't believe she was tolerating being in Brooklyn.

As she woke, she did what she did every morning - run through the mental checklist of her life. Was she in the college she wanted to be? More or less. Was she professionally poised for success? She was working on it. Was she still pregnant? Suffocatingly, so. Was she on track for the fairytale ending? That had been much easier to answer yesterday when she was still engaged to a prince. She sighed. _What would Audrey do?_

And as if on cue, she heard _Moon River_ wafting from Dan's nightstand. Dan haphazardly grabbed for his phone, silencing it quickly.

"What was that?" she accused, her head perched above his.

"That?" he began, sleep still evident in his voice. "That was nothing."

"Was that your alarm?"

"It may of been." She tilted her head, eyeing him peculiarly. "What? It's a nice song," he stammered. "It's soothing in the morning." And then added, "It's a nice way to wake up, among other things." He nuzzled the side of her neck with his nose.

She smiled despite herself. "Plus, I believe Audrey ends up with a writer in that one," he said, raising his eyebrow suggestively.

"Not in the book."

"Books are overrated," he said, kissing her forehead - the meaning not lost on her. "You hungry?" he asked, sitting up. She whimpered a bit as he left the bed, and she silently chastised herself for sounding so dependent.

"You're always trying to feed me," she said, disdainfully.

"Well, you are eating for two."

She fell back on to the bed and groaned. "Don't remind me."

"You know you can't deny yourself out of this, right Blair?" he said in his annoyingly honest tone.

"I came here last night to make a bad decision and be with you," she said pointedly but sadly not even producing a slight wince from him. "Not to be reminded of reality," she finished in a huff.

"Well, while you're avoiding reality, would you prefer pancakes or French toast?"

"Pancakes, I suppose," she said, lifting from the bed and dragging her feet behind him.

They sat, mostly in quiet, enjoying the soft glow of morning. Dan layered more pancakes than she was comfortable with on her plate, but she ate them - the gnawing feeling of hunger she had always tried to ignore in the past cutting surprisingly into her self control. The scene was comfortable, almost Norman Rockwellian. And she found herself frequently holding her breath - something she would do often when she was a child and her parents were happy and not fighting. Some kind of ritual to hold onto a good moment, keep it was bursting into tragedy.

Tragedy was a word she had grown accustomed to her short life. She was never good enough for her mother. Her father left her for another man. Her best friend slept with her boyfriend. Her dreams of Yale were dashed by her own manipulations. Her lover betrayed her trust for a business conquest. She jabbed her fork into her pancakes, wondering when this too would fall apart. She wasn't normal like Dan.

But then again, long ago, Dan had said that he couldn't talk to his mother honestly. His father went off and married the woman he had really been in love with the whole time. Dan's dreams of Yale were dashed by his lack of resources. And his former lover and best friend betrayed his trust by divulging a scandalous tell-all to a publisher. Maybe, Blair realized, no one was really all that normal.

She swatted at his hand as he tried to pour more syrup on her plate. "You're trying to make me fat, aren't you," she accused.

"Yep, you got me," he said holding his hands up, the syrup still dangling from his finger. "I won't stop until you're 105 pounds of girly evil."

"I'm eating your stupid pancakes," she said, trying to suppress the smile that just wouldn't stop forming on her lips when she heard a knock come from the door.

She eyed Dan suspiciously, but teasingly. "I'm here," she said. "Who else comes to your door unannounced?"

"I'm not sure," he replied, striding over to the doorframe. "Only one way to find out."

As he swung the door open, Blair's jaw dropped.


	15. Blair Chapter 2

Louis. Standing stately. Regal in Brooklyn. Holding a bouquet of peonies. Looking mildly shocked at the scene before him. Dan Humphrey, shirtless and holding a bottle of maple syrup. Blair Waldorf, nestled in a bar chair, eating pancakes with her hair pulled back unevenly, wearing a grey t-shirt and a pair of men's boxers. Dan had assured her that the boxers were Dolce and Gabbana, a pair Serena had bought him and he never had the nerve to wear because of the ridiculous price tag. And Blair assured Dan that they were the only garment in his wardrobe that wouldn't make her skin crawl.

"Blair." Louis said simply, swallowing, and looking from her to Dan.

"Please come in," Dan stated awkwardly, looking around, no doubt for a shirt - suddenly a new custom when Blair was around.

"Louis, what are you doing here?" Blair asked, self-consciously smoothing her shirt and hair as she stood to greet him.

"The royal detail is still following you, and," he said, eyeing Dan disapprovingly, "before I could leave, I needed to talk to you."

"Yes, of course," she said. The moment was uncomfortable, which was to be expected, but also filled with a lack of familiarity. Empty sadness washed over Blair in the realization. She had agreed to marry someone who she barely knew, and now that the details of her personality were being filled in for him, she felt guilty - like she had deceived him in every way.

"Would you like a pancake?" Dan asked Louis, and she put her head down to cover the corners of her mouth rising at his familiarity.

"I doubt the prince is interested in your breakfast assortment," she curtly replied, pushing Dan back into the kitchen and taking the syrup from his hands.

"It's not really an assortment," he countered. "That would imply more than one choice," he said in Louis's direction.

"That is alright Monsieur Humphrey. I appreciate the offer, but I have already eaten." Louis walked further into the loft, sitting down his jacket but continuing to hold onto the peonies. "If it wouldn't be too much trouble, would you mind if Blair and I spoke privately?"

Dan looked to Blair who looked as terrified as he probably felt, but she nodded in his direction. "Sure, let me just get dressed and I'll go out for coffee." Dan scrambled into the back room and moments later emerged slightly rumpled in a t-shirt and jeans. He stepped towards Blair in what seemed like an effort to hug her goodbye, but stepped back on second thought. "I'll be around the corner if you need me," he said close to Blair's ear - an intimate enough gesture for Louis to take note.

She nodded quietly and watched him walk out the loft, her heart thudding as he closed the door.

"That Dan Humphrey seems like a good friend of yours," Louis said, searching.

"Yes. I was pretty distraught last night and I needed a shoulder." She figured that was true enough to not make her feel bad.

"A shoulder?" The question illustrated across his face.

"To cry on. It's an expression," she said, feeling more than verbally lost in translation.

"Well, I was happy to hear that you came here last night. I was worried that you would end up at The Empire." And she wasn't sure if it was his thick French accent or a spike of anger that twisted the word "Empire".

"Louis, I don't think you have the entire picture," she began but was cut off.

"I love you Blair, and I want you to know that I can forgive," he said, finally offering her the flowers in his hand. She looked down at them, their pink beauty mocking her inner turmoil. "If this baby is mine," he continued, "I wish to take you to Monaco, but I don't want to come back here."

She looked up slowly. "If this baby is yours?"

"Blair, you can't be certain that the baby isn't."

"But we were always so careful, and that night with..." she stumbled for the right words, "...I wasn't."

Louis sighed deeply, the practiced and routined sigh of someone who had been groomed to take scandal in dignified stride. "I understand what you're saying," he began, "but I insist that before I return to Monaco that you take a test. We can determine where to go from there."

When Dan returned to the loft, Blair was back to Blair. The disheveled hair, tousled from sleep and his own searching hands, was carefully coiffed and pinned. The t-shirt and boxers lay folded on his bed, and her dress was crisply put back on. She was sitting on the couch starring at her peonies, transfixed by the pink layers of petals, and wondering how nature could make something so perfect without thinking, while all she did was screw everything up even though she obsessed over each detail.

"Would you like some coffee?" Dan asked, sliding onto the couch beside her.

"No, I think I'm awake for the day," she bemoaned slowly. He chuckled a little, placing his arm around her shoulders, and she turned to look at him.

"Well, it's decaf so it probably wouldn't have helped with that." He was so earnest. So accepting. _That's how Louis was before I destroyed him_. She shook the thought from her head.

"My life is turning into an episode of Jerry Springer," she declared. "Louis would like a paternity test."

Dan tilted his head, gauging her mood. "A prince or a billionaire. I don't think those are usually the options on that show." Then he added noticing a small smile crack across her lips, "Regardless of who the father is, at least we know the baby won't have to worry about a college fund."

She scrunched her nose at him.

"Yeah. I guess that's not something you ever had to worry about either," he said realizing how silly his statement was.

As Blair was leaving the loft, Dan hailed a cab. Before putting her in, he kissed her chastely on the forehead, hugging her next, and whispering, "Blair, it'll be alright."

It was a well-meaning lie. A lie that sent warmth erupting through her heart again. She couldn't get over how just saying her name had become so comforting. She sat, jostling in the backseat to the music of New City traffic, until she felt her purse vibrate. Taking her cell phone out, she almost dropped it on the floor.

Accompanying two pictures, one of Louis looking disgruntled and one of a chummy couple in front of a cab, was the blast she had been dreading. **"Spotted: A prince leaving Brooklyn and a queen being kissed by a pauper. What's going on, B?"**

She put her head down and groaned. This was not what she needed right now.


	16. Blair Chapter 3

**Author's Note: I've been a little crazy with the updates lately. I've been out of school and had ample time to write, but with the holiday weekend coming up, I don't foresee being in front of my computer too much. I just wanted to let you know, just in case you thought I was dead or something. I hope you fellow Americans have a nice holiday weekend. And for those non-Americans, I hope you also have a nice weekend - holiday or not.  
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When she arrived at her penthouse, all Blair wanted to do was take a warm bath and read the novel for her lit homework. School had always been an excellent avenue for avoidance. But instead, Serena sat perched at the table tapping her cell phone.

Blair silently groaned and rolled her eyes.

"You were out late last night," her blond friend said, the tone of suspicion clear across the room.

Blair ignored the comment heading for the stairs.

"And, isn't that the same outfit you were wearing last night?" Serena called, this time louder than before.

Blair stopped and looked in her direction, daring her to say what they both knew Serena was referencing. Serena exhaled loudly and put her cell phone down on the table, screen up. "Don't pretend you didn't see the blast," Serena stated pushing the cell phone closer to Blair's direction.

Blair dropped her shoulders, and heading over towards Serena, plopped down across from her. Blair wouldn't normally plop down, but the exhaustion of her situation and Louis's gentle but stern demand was taking a toll even on her movement. "Judge away, Serena. This should be rich coming from you."

"What does this mean?" she asked, pointing to the picture of Dan kissing Blair's forehead. "Are you and Dan..."

Blair noted that Serena looked sick - her usual glow appearing pallid under the weight of the next word. "Together?" Blair offered.

Serena winced. "I was going to say 'having sex'."

A laugh escaped from Blair's throat. "You would assume we're having sex before you'd think we were a couple?"

"That just makes more sense then you two as a couple," Serena criticized in return, still looking taken aback. And pale. Paler than Blair had ever seen her.

"We're not having sex, S," she said, watching her friend settle a little in her seat, then added, "yet, anyway." And to be honest, the words even sounded odd to her. She had never found Dan Humphrey unattractive. His dark looks and tone physique were hard to deny, but until recently, the thought of being intimate with him was unfathomable. Until, well, last night when she was reminded of a conversation she once had on the steps outside of high school. Serena had reported that Dan was surprisingly good at everything they had done. Blair silently concurred.

"Oooh," Serena exclaimed, putting her hands by her shoulders and splaying her fingers out in frustration. "I don't think I can handle this Blair," she said, her tone pleading. "You and Dan, I don't think that's going to work for me."

Blair studied her friend carefully, the one person she would probably die for - she had definitely put herself in several compromising positions trying to save her in the past. Serena was her constant, the person she viewed as a vestige of her past, a reminder of her now, and marker of her future. Blair couldn't imagine a world without Serena, but she also couldn't imagine getting through the current mess she called life without Dan's strong shoulders to burden some of her pain.

She put her chin in the palm of hand, resting her elbow on the table. " I assumed that when you gave me the book, you were sanctioning the union," she finally said, because what else was there to say. She wasn't giving him up, and she didn't want to lose Serena either.

"I didn't know you would reciprocate," Serena replied.

"Dan is..." taking a moment to find the right word, "..._difficult_ to not like."

Serena scoffed. "You've done a pretty good job of it until recently."

"Look Serena. Trust me, I tried," she stated strongly. "It's just - Dan," she softened, "he helps me face things. He helps me stay honest with myself - which to be frank, has never been a strong suit." And even Serena nodded in agreement. "And," Blair added, "he distracts me from my problems when I need it." She finished with a little smile that she knew Serena couldn't ignore.

"Yeah," Serena said knowingly, "he's good at that." The soft wistful lilt in her voice cut through Blair's smile, then quickly changed. "But Blair, problems? What problems? Up until today I figured your only problem was deciding which French artist was going to paint your palace portrait."

In response to Serena's tone, Blair sat straighter in her seat. Putting her hands in her lap, she said, "I broke off the engagement."

Blair had expected Serena to look sad or shocked. Instead, Serena just looked annoyed. "That sounds like it was Dan's making," she replied in an unsettling, almost Blair-like tone.

Blair inhaled slowly, debating her next words. "That's not my only problem, Serena. There's been more going on." She reached across the table, taking Serena's hands in both of hers. "I'm with child."

"With child?" Serena laughed. "This isn't _Gone With the Wind_, Blair." Then the light bulb went off, illuminating meaning in Serena's face. "Wait, you're with child?"

Blair nodded.

"Louis?" Serena asked.

"No."

"Dan?"

"I told you we haven't had sex."

"Oh," Serena said, then more knowingly and more elongated, "Oh." She didn't even need to say Chuck's name. "How did I miss this?" she said squeezing Blair's hands. "What was I doing last year?"

"I don't know," Blair said flippantly. "Ben." Serena made a small 'o' with lips and Blair retreated from the attack. "You were wrapped up in the Juliet mess and then your mother's scandal. It's alright , S," she said in a conciliatory voice.

Serena sat motionlessly for a moment, then said slowly, as though she didn't really want to voice her idea, "Have you thought about getting rid of it?"

"Yes," Blair breathed. "I even went to a clinic in France while I was visiting my father. But I couldn't go through with it." She pulled her hands away from Serena and settled them back in her lap. "I have the resources and Chuck..." the word making her baby more and more real, "he's never really had a family."

"Wow." The meaning of Blair's words washing over Serena. "And Dan?" she asked more pointedly but with less judgment and disdain than earlier.

"Is something I'm figuring out," Blair said, more confidently than even she had expected. "But it's real. The thing between us."

Serena nodded. "I read the book." Then added, "I think it's a good thing I'll be in California. I don't think I can watch you two together."

Serena left later that day. In the airport with Lily and Rufus and Eric, Blair noted that Dan was nowhere to be found, and she wondered who's choice that was.

Nearing Serena's departure time, Serena gave everyone a hug. When she got close to Blair, she put both of her hands on Blair's face. "Just make good choices, Blair," she said, then wrapped her in her arms.

Blair whispered, "Because I have such a great track record at that," into her shoulder, choking back tears as she remembered that her best friend would be gone for the next few months.

"You're better at it than you give yourself credit."

And with that, Serena left, walking through the metal detectors and out of Blair's life for an indiscernible amount of time.


	17. Blair Chapter 4

**Author's Note: Ok. Maybe I lied about taking the weekend off. (Breaks are so overrated.)**

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"I'll get you, my pretty," a voice screeched from outside her window as a sepia tone storm raged in her view. "And your reputation, too. XOXO."

Blair sat up startled, partially by the way the voice cackled XOXO but mostly from what she was wearing - a gingham dress and god-awful braided pigtails. "Dorota, what is going on?" she demanded, turning to see the portly lady also out of her usual garb and sporting something brown and furry that looked as though Burberry vomited it out of its collection.

Dorota just barked and ran to the window. Blair looked around, suspiciously thinking that was clearly not normal. Cell phones and laptops and photographic flashes swirled around the broken debris outside until what she was in crashed to the ground.

Blair stood up, Dorota close behind, and grabbing for her Fendi handbag from the ground, opened the door to a sea of color.

The world was a psychedelic dream, drenched in the brightest hues of blue, yellow, green, and pink. "Dorota," Blair said cautiously, "I don't think we're on the Upper East Side anymore." Dorota wagged her head, and Blair added distastefully, "Maybe Greenwich Village but definitely not the Upper East Side."

A large pink bubble floated down from above and burst gently before her eyes. Serena appeared before her in a stunning pink Givenchy gown, her cheeks shining more than usual. "You're here Blair. Have you made your choice yet?"

"Excuse me?" Blair uttered in sheer confusion.

"You have to go home, but with whom?"

"What? I don't think this is how this story goes," Blair said, looking around for the trademark little people in bizarre costumes. "I'm the one who is supposed to want to go home."

"Well then, we're on the same page," Serena said syruply, her sparkling become more and more annoying.

"No," Blair erupted. "I don't actually want to go home. That's where all my problems are." Her tone was shrill but not demanding. It was more lost.

"Well, you must," Serena said, brandishing a wand in the air as three new bubbles appeared. "And you have to decide which one of these to take with you," Serena finished, raising her eyebrow suggestively.

The first bubble popped gently revealing Louis wearing a casual suit, loafers, and what appeared to be a leopard print shirt. "If I only had some courage, I would have confronted you over the Chuck issue much before this," he said, his accent thick and slightly hurt.

The next burst to reveal a stylishly silver-clad Chuck. He tipped his hat in Blair's direction and said, "If I only had a heart, I wouldn't be such a bastard. But you know you love me."

Blair wrinkled her nose at his eye-wagging as Louis angrily stamped his foot on the ground.

The last bubble floated towards Blair, practically kissing her nose before popping apart to reveal Dan. In flannel, of course. He smiled, and Blair felt her body relax. Tilting his head, he said, "If I only had a brain, I wouldn't be dating you with these two still around."

Blair felt her face drop.

"What am I supposed to do?" Blair pleaded in Serena's direction.

"You're supposed to pick one. I'd stick around and help, but I really must be going. The California sun is a waste without me." Blair watched horrified as Serena disappeared in a pink sandy poof.

She stood there paralyzed until a little man tugged on her dress. "Look lady," he spoke in a gruff voice, "This amount of Technicolor is expensive. You don't have to go home, but you can't stay here." He tapped her with a giant lollipop, and she felt herself begin to whirl, hurtling out of control in a black and white circular hazy mess until she heard a loud buzzing sound.

Blair awoke with a start. Sitting straight up, she took long, gasping breaths. "Not Judy Garland," she whispered disdainfully to herself. "I'm not Judy Garland!" Her world buzzed again, and as she grabbed her phone off of the nightstand, she thought "There's no place like denial. There's no place like denial. There's no place like denial," before sliding the screen over.

But no amount of denial kept the blast from appearing. There she was - sitting in a hospital chair holding hands with Dan Humphrey. "**Spotted: B and Apparently Not-So-Lonely Boy sitting outside of an office that specializes in the OB part of the OBGYN. Who knew when I scooped their kiss at the Pink Party, that one day there would be little one in pink? Oh B, what happened? And why did you trade your tiara in for flannel?**"

Blair groaned, as if getting a paternity test wasn't humiliating enough.

Dan showed up about an hour later. "I was going to wear a costume, but I figured the jig was up," he said, half smiling and half biting his lip.

Blair, still in bed, jerked the covers over her head. "Go away, Humphrey. I'm too pregnant with your baby to put up with you," she said in a sulk.

"I know. Who knew?" he said good-naturedly, sitting on the bed beside her.

"Since our outing in Brooklyn, Gossip Girl must have her little howler monkeys tracking me," she grumbled beneath the sheets.

"Well hey, isn't it better that you cheated on the prince with me instead of Chuck? Far more respectable."

She peeped an eye out from beneath the covers just so he could see her rolling it at him.

"You know, this hasn't been easy on me, either," he said patting the Blair-shaped bump on the comforter. "My dad has already called to ask about his new grandchild. That was awkward. And then he wanted to know when I started dating Blair Waldorf, and you know, that was even more awkward."

Blair reluctantly peeled the cover from her face, sitting up against the headboard and dropping her arms down in a huff. "What are you doing here?" she posed in a voice much younger than her age.

"I've come to hide with you."

She wasn't expecting that. "What are _you_ hiding from?" If he said the public knowing about their relationship, she just might burst with sadness and begin a violent pillow fight for which the world has not seen.

"My book came out today." She had forgotten. Five days ago, he had shown her a preview of it in _The New Yorker_. But then four days ago, he had agreed to go the fertility clinic with her, and she had promptly forgotten about _his_ scandal.

"I saw it in three bookstore windows on the way over," Dan said, sighing heavily.

He looked scared, but all she could honestly think was, "That's amazing."

"It sort of is, isn't it?" he said in response, his tone a little surprised. And then with trepidation, "But the repercussions..."

"Whatever Humphrey," she said, hitting him with a pillow. "Your lame former-rock dad will love you no matter what."

He smiled at the thought. "I'd still like to hide."

"I'll harbor you this time," she said playfully, beginning to forget about the blast. Dan had a funny way of making her forget her problems, for a little while anyway.

"I came with a few movies," he said, reaching for his satchel bag he had placed by the bed.

"Classics, I assume?" she asked with an air of superiority.

"Umm. Not entirely," he responded. "They're more topical."

She narrowed his eyes in his direction as he searched through his bag. "Choice number one," he said, handing it over.

Blair read the box. _She's Having a Baby. _"Cute," she said throwing it back in his direction more roughly than she probably should have.

Dan chuckled. "Choice number two."

Blair didn't even take the box, instead studying it from her spot on the bed. "_The Object of My Affection_? Are you trying to tell me that you're gay?"

He ignored her comment. "The next choice is something we've already seen, but again, I was going for thematic."

Blair held back her laughter as he handed her _Rosemary's Baby_. "That's not even funny," she said, doing her best to glare at him.

His body pulsed a bit as he too tried to hold back the laughter. "Too soon?"

"Too soon," she replied.

"Ok," he said, searching deeper into his bag, "I think this one's the one. It's a 1939 classic with absolutely no men in the cast." He handed Blair the box.

"_The Women_? I think this is the winner," she said, rising from her bed to get her laptop. "I think I can handle a world with no men."

"I'll try not to take offence to that," he said dramatically clutching at his heart.

She returned to the bed, sitting down next to him. "Right now," she said looking at him closely, "you're the only man I can tolerate being around."

"Oh! And suddenly my heart doesn't hurt anymore," he said moving his hand from his heart to brush a strand of hair from her cheek, then threading his fingers with hers.

They began the movie adding hushed commentary throughout, and Blair continued to note how Norman Rockwell could have painted the whole scene. Sitting in bed, watching a movie, holding hands. She never thought normal could be so satisfying.

"Do you always wear pajamas like that to bed?" he whispered over the film.

"Why?" she asked, turning her a head to face him. "Is there something wrong with them?"

"No," he said admiringly, the slight leering making her blood rush and leaving her a bit lightheaded. "It's just, if the answer is yes, I'm going to have to upgrade my sleepwear."

She smiled suggestively. "That's awfully presumptuous, Humphrey."

"Really?" he asked, his eyes targeted on his lips and his head leaning over to kiss her.

Her body buzzed with anticipation.

That is until Dorota popped her head into the door. "Miss Blair," she said urgently, a look of fear across her face as though she was about to be in trouble. "I tried to keep him downstairs, but he insisted."

"Dorota, what are you -"

But her question was stunted by the arrival of Chuck Bass in her bedroom.


	18. Blair Chapter 5

Blair jumped out of bed. It was reactionary - like when a parent walks into your room as a teenager. She watched Dorota scurry away wishing she could go with her. She closed her eyes, breathing in slowly, then opened to lock glares with Chuck. He looked surprisingly calm.

She knew better. Chuck was never calm.

"I usually take Gossip Girl with a grain of salt," he began slowly, his finger running along the edge of her bureau as he inched closer to her. "When I saw the blast a week ago about Louis leaving Brooklyn, I just assumed that Humphrey was being a friend. The kiss on the forehead looked innocent enough," his words sharply spiked with disgust. "But," he continued, eyeing her stomach as she self-consciously wrapped her arms around it, at that moment realizing that her pajamas were the only part of her wardrobe she hadn't carefully chosen to hide the small but telling bump. "It appears she may be accurate on this one. Is it true Blair?" he asked with a small amount of pleading in his voice. "You and him," he said pointing irritably towards Dan still seated on her bed, "getting a pregnancy test?"

She looked over at Dan, not really looking for help so much as dumb-founded that someone actually believed the blast, especially Chuck. "Just tell him Blair," Dan said. His tone wasn't confident but it was justified.

She turned back to Chuck and swallowed, looking into the air for the self assurance to begin this conversation. "I wasn't at the hospital to get a pregnancy test," she said. Then looking back down into Chuck's eyes, "I know I'm pregnant Chuck."

He looked confused. And lost. A lot like the vulnerable Chuck that always drew her in. "Then, what were you doing at the hospital?"

She laughed with absolutely no humor in the sound. "It's safe to say I'm not pregnant with Dan's baby."

Still confused, Chuck asked, "So Gossip Girl had it wrong?" Blair nodded in return. "And the prince? Why wasn't he with you? I thought he was a better man than that."

"The prince was there. We just weren't really speaking," Blair said and then added, "Louis is leaving for Monaco soon."

"When will you be joining him?" He asked the question, but it looked like he knew the answer. There was a glimmer of hope shining forward, and she groaned inside because of its implication.

"Probably never," she said, his face softening. "We parted ways, Chuck. It wasn't working out."

"Does that mean you're in the market for a new prince?" he asked, smirking in a way that always worked its way into her heart, the glimmer now stronger than before.

But for the first time in so long, she just wanted that glimmer to die. "You know what?" she asked abruptly. "I'm kind of over the fairytale thing."

She walked over to the bed, sitting on the spot next to Dan, and she wondered when it had happened. All her life she wanted to be a princess ruling over her minions. For a short period of time, she wanted to tame a beast with her love (and still rule over her minions) but even that was a fairytale - farfetched and cliché.

"And you two are just friends," Chuck stated with a sneer, stirring her from her thoughts.

She looked over at Dan, tilting her head as though she were examining him. His hair was too long and too puffy, and his clothes were too out of place. To her horror, he might of even had a small hole in his sock. He definitely didn't look like he belonged amidst her satin sheets or in her satin-covered world. "No," she answered, her tone peculiar. "Not exactly." She felt the corner of her lips tug upwards because no matter how long the laundry list of ways he didn't fit in, she hadn't felt this right with someone in some time.

Dan smiled warmly as well, taking her hand in his. "We haven't really defined it quite yet, have we?" he said more to Blair than anyone else.

"I'll define it for you," Chuck interrupted. "This is laughable."

Dan let her hand go and swung his legs over the bed, posturing like he was going to do more. "I was at the hospital getting a paternity test," she blurted out in attempt to curb any testosterone-fueled madness.

"What?" Chuck said, swinging his head from Dan to Blair.

Blair stood up again, walking in his direction and stopping a few feet from him. "Louis thinks the baby might be his, but I know better."

The pieces started to click together in the expression on Chuck's face. "How pregnant are you?" he asked with a certain sense of unease that made her want to avoid the issue.

"That's such an inane question," she replied. "Very." The word came out sourly. "It's not like I can be partially pregnant."

"How far along, Blair?" Chuck pushed forward, ignoring her acerbic words.

"It's getting close to four months," she said, looking up and avoiding both men who were staring at her intensely.

"You're barely even sho-, How did this-, What-" Chuck stuttered to form the words or the thoughts or both. "How could you not tell me?" he finally settled on, hurt resonating through the room. "I deserved to know."

He was right. He did. But Chuck had always been an addiction to her, dragging her down by his weighty gravity. He was an addiction she finally felt like she had beaten, discarding his shackles and stepping into the light. And then that pregnancy stick turned positive and all the positivity drained from her body, so she convinced herself _it_ was wrong. That was until three more clandestine tests in Monaco proved _her_ wrong. And then the doctor she had seen in France while Louis's guards were off her back when she visited her father officially confirmed it.

Chuck was right. He did deserve to know, but she couldn't find the right way to tell him without returning to her old ways. And she was so tired of being miserable and dark. Of being weak and desperate. She just wanted to be normal.

"Leave Blair alone," Dan said, stepping forward to come to her rescue. "She's been under a lot of stress." And it was true. It really wasn't a great excuse for keeping the most likely potential father in the dark, but this wasn't the biggest of the sins she'd committed in her life.

"You have no place here, Humphrey." Chuck's words were spit out like fire. "Now that Louis's out of the picture, you know you're just a speed bump on Blair's journey to me."

"You know, Chuck," Dan said, and Blair watched as Dan's fist tightened into a hard ball. "Our track record is pretty skewed in my direction. I wouldn't keep saying things like that if you don't want a black eye."

"I know it might be difficult for you to understand," Chuck responded, moving in Dan's direction, seemingly bucking for position, "what with being unsophisticated and having a misplaced sense of belonging, but Blair is mine. You can kid yourself all you want."

"Wow," Dan said, also stepping closer into the power play. "Claiming her? Has that ever worked for you in the past?"

"Blair," Chuck said, never taking his eyes off of Dan, "kick him out so the adults can talk."

"What is wrong with you, man?" Dan asked, a vicious smile forming on his lips. "I'd ask if your mother dropped you on your head, but she wasn't really around to do that, was she?" There was a glint in his eye that Blair had never seen before, and in that moment she realized the kind of hatred that flowed through his veins devoted solely for Chuck Bass.

"Wow," she interjected loudly causing both boys to look her way. "That was harsh," she said in Dan's direction. "But he has a point." She turned to Chuck. "You can't come in here acting like you own me."

"Blair," Chuck pleaded, the anger directed at Dan starting to subside. "This is the world telling us something."

"What?," she asked wryly. "To use protection and not act like uneducated teenagers?"

Chuck shook his head, stepping close enough to her she could feel his breath. "We're inevitable," he said, reaching for her hand.

And she silently cursed Humphrey for making her watch _Star Wars_ and equating Chuck to messed up Jedi mind tricks because that was all could she think of right then as she jerked her hand away. His lies. His manipulations. His Darth Vader-like personality. Her stupid willingness to believe. "That word just sounds like a veiled threat," she whispered sadly. "Like I have no choice."

"Blair," his tone imploring, but she couldn't give him what he wanted.

And more importantly, she didn't want to.

"I need you to leave," she said resolutely.

"I'm not leaving until we've figured this out." Chuck stepped forward again to touch her cheek, and she jumped back - his touch feeling like fire burning to consume her.

"Stop touching me," she exclaimed, her tone elevating to a yell. She settled slightly when she saw Dan step in her direction. "I'm not ready for this," she said, calmer but still urgently. "We can deal with this when I'm not wearing pajamas. We'll set up a time. I promise."

"I'm not leaving -"

"I want you to get out Chuck," she interrupted, her voice back to a yell. "Just get out!"

Dan stepped between Chuck and Blair. "The stress isn't good for the baby," he said, curbing anything more Chuck wanted to say.

"You're not even..." Chuck began and then relented with a small trace of concern in his eyes. "Fine. But this isn't over."

"Trust me," Blair said, watching Chuck leave. "I know."

It wasn't over. It would never be over. Her hand brushed across her stomach, and she wanted to cry and keep crying until there was nothing left in her. She had worked so hard to move on, but fate and horrid choices were playing a cruel, cruel trick on her - letting her know that in this particular game she was only the mouse. The cat would catch her sooner or later. It was inevitable.

"I can't escape him, Dan," she cried, feeling completely desperate and weak. "He'll be with me forever. I just wish this baby would go away. It's like a nightmare I can't wake up from."

"Blair, don't say that," Dan said, reaching out to steady her movements.

"Why?" she asked, not pulling away but not really allowing him to still her. "Because it finally shows you what a horrible person I am?"

"No," he said, wincing at the thought. "Because you'll regret saying that."

Dan Humphrey and his I-know-it-all attitude had always irked her, so much so, she jerked her shoulders away from him. And now, standing there, trying to make her feel like everything would work out, as if his lopsided grin and his left-handed poetry could salve a broken life, she just wanted to hurt him - make him feel desperate and weak and small like her. "You know what?" she asked, venom dripping from her words. "Right now, the only thing I regret is showing up at your place that night."

He stepped back, clearly wounded by her words. "You don't mean that."

"Yes," she proclaimed. "Yes, I do." Wounding was not enough, she needed to go in for the kill. "This is only working because we're not facing reality and," she added, her voice becoming more hateful, "Serena's not in the picture." His shoulders dropped but his face was still annoyingly earnest and set on her. "What do you even see in me, Dan?" she questioned trying to break his stare. "You have to have half a brain to want to be with me right now."

"Because you're pregnant?" he asked innocently.

"Like that's not enough," she scolded.

"Blair, I spent the better part of last year trying to date my step-sister. Social propriety is pretty lost on me." He had a point but she wasn't going to break first. She watched his face change a little, shifting to determination and she steeled herself to what would come next. "All I know is that I can't stop thinking about you," Dan said, moving closer to her. "I want to be around you all the time. I want to take care of you when you let me. And when you're around, my problems seem less like problems." He took her hands in his, and even though she wanted to drop them in feigned disgust, there was something about his sincerity that kept her glued to her spot, her hands in his, unwavering. "I know it sounds unbelievable, but I don't care that you're pregnant. I just care that you feel the same way I do."

And she did.

She had so much going on, but she knew she wanted him in her life. Beside her. With her.

Her eyes were forming tears that she blinked back fruitlessly. "All I know is that being with you is-," _ perfect. It's what I want. It's what I need, and it doesn't need to make sense_. The finished thoughts danced in her head making her dizzy with realization.

But then she remembered that hateful spark in Dan's eyes when he was addressing Chuck, and she remembered how darkness could so easily ignite and consume especially in her world. Chuck would always be around. She didn't want that for Dan. He deserved better. He deserved someone better.

"All I know is that with you I might as well be trailer trash."

Her words cut even her, the pain shooting through her body and taking permanence in her heart. She wiped the tears from her eyes after dropping his hands and backing away. "Cheating on my fiancé. Getting knocked up. And now seeing someone new - someone who used to date by best friend, someone _below_ me," her words sounding convincing even to herself. "Without you in the equation, my life makes more sense. I'm not the girl you want me to be."

Dan looked stunned. His face contorted into a strangled sadness before saying quietly, "I just want you to be happy, Blair."

"Well," making the final blow, "that's not going to happen with you in the picture." She turned around, her back to him. "I want you to leave too."

"But Blair-"

"Stress isn't good for the baby," she said over her shoulder without flinching. "You said it yourself."

She trained her eyes on the silver brush on her vanity - knowing that if she turned around, all would be revealed - her reverse Eurydice - and he would know she wasn't lost to him. She waited, counting the soft bristles until she heard his feet shift slowly to the bed, picking up what sounded like his bag. She closed her eyes until she heard the door shut softly, considerate even in heartache. And collapsing to the ground, she cried until she couldn't hear her heart break anymore.


	19. Blair Chapter 6

**Author's Note: Bemelman's Bar is named after the author of the **_**Madeline**_** series. He created large murals throughout the bar.**

Sitting in the Carlyle's Bemelmans Bar, Blair slowly stirred her drink while appreciating the art around her. She remembered when she was little she had asked her mother for a yellow hat with a black bow. Never as impulsive as Madeline, Blair instead admired the orderly world in which Madeline lived. "Twelve little girls in two straight lines, they left the house at half past nine." Her mother laughed, throwing back her head, and decreed that no daughter of hers would be caught dead in such an uncomplimentary color scheme as Madeline. "A blue and red dress with a yellow and black hat? Who styled her? Betsey Johnson?" It was one of the first times Blair remembered thinking how important fashion must be.

A handsome man walked up behind her in a casual grey suit. He slid next to her, shaking his head in concern. "Blair, what are you doing?" he said, motioning to the drink.

"Don't worry Archibald," she said rolling her eyes. "It's just seltzer water with lime." She raised her glass in a mock toast. "Nonalcoholic."

Nate smiled and Blair's heart warmed a little. While she could never imagine being with him again, there was something about the fair-haired boy that spelled home to her. Just the faint smell of his cologne bought back a simpler time when all she had to worry about was his hungry eyes in her best friend's direction. No baby. No prince. No Chuck. No Dan.

"I know you get destructive when you're sad, but I'd never believe you were that destructive," he said nonchalantly, motioning the bartender over to order a drink.

Shocked at his insight, she narrowed her eyes and asked, "How do you know I'm sad?"

The bartender brought him over beer in a pint glass. He took a small sip and then let it settle on the bar counter. "You called me," he said, "and it didn't relate to a scheme."

She sighed. Perhaps she hadn't called Nate recently in a just a friend capacity. It had always seemed like Chuck got him in their separation, but tonight, she felt like crossing the unspoken line in their unspoken separation agreement. Tonight, Dorota had the night off for Vanya and Anastasia time. Tonight, Serena was about two and a half thousand miles away. And tonight, she had no Dan. No Humphrey to pick at, or make fun of, or make watch obscure movies with. Tonight, it was either Nate or the crazy lady outside the independent movie theatre who always wanted to discuss Anne Baxter's undeniable charm. Tonight, she chose Nate.

She sighed again, getting started with the reason she had called Nate in the first place - her amazingly screwed up life. "I assume Chuck's told you about the situation," she stated rather than asked.

"Yeah," he said taking a drink. "He's pretty messed up about it which means..." he looked upward trying to form the words, "well, it means he's actually pretty messed up right now."

"Mature," Blair responded quickly, easily imagining a drunk and/or high Bass secluded in his Empire prison. The one word was laced with concern - not for Chuck, she realized for the first time, rather for herself and her unborn child.

Nate smiled seriously, "What Chuck lacks in maturity he makes up in..." He took another drink to avoid finishing the thought. "It must be tough going through all this without Serena," he said clearly changing the topic. "But at least you have Dan. He _really_ likes you."

Blair had been studying the bubbles at the bottom of her glass as they released and danced to the surface, but her head popped up at that statement. "What? How do you even know that?" she accused.

He laughed a little, leaning back in his chair. "We went out a week or two ago, and he got so drunk he started calling me 'Dad' and asking for Cedric. He had to spend the night at my place," Nate chuckled. "Do you even know who Cedric is?"

Blair stared at him astonished. First because who in Dan's life didn't know who Cedric was? Second because Dan was with Nate when Dan had called her. Drunk. Telling her that she looked like a doll with her porcelain skin and well-defined lips and that his doll was lonely and she should come over because he was lonely too. And that he missed her. And that he didn't care that she didn't like him because he just wanted to be near her. Nate Archibald had let his friend make such a poor decision while intoxicated. It made her rethink the crazy lady at the independent theatre. Perhaps she might have better insight into Blair's situation.

"Man, I'd never seen Dan so wasted," Nate continued noticing he wasn't going to get an answer about the identity of the elusive Cedric. He set his beer down and looked Blair straight in the eye. "All he could do was talk about you."

"He did?" she said, silently cursing the small voice that harkened back to her teenage years when she was just so excited that a boy liked her. "He probably just confused my name with Serena's," she bit back to erase the small tone of her earlier words.

"No," Nate said, nodding his head, "he knew who he was talking about."

Nate studied Blair's face, his light eyes burrowing into her so much so she took to staring at the bubbles in her drink again. And then tentatively, he said, "Dan - he's a really good guy. He's supportive, and he'll probably be there for you in ways Chuck doesn't even know how."

_He would, wouldn't he? _she thought, stirring her bubbles from rest. Dan Humphrey was the sort of man who believed Serena really had changed. He was the sort of man who wanted to raise Georgina Spark's spawn even when he realized he wasn't the father. Dan Humphrey was the sort of man who still carried a picture of a baby he loved in his wallet. Dan Humphrey would love her without any conditions or demands.

"Blair. Why are you sad?" Nate asked, cutting through her thoughts.

"I kicked Dan out of my house today," she said abruptly. "I told him he made me feel like trailer trash."

A small amount of shock dashed across his face. "You wouldn't - no, you would," he confirmed, shaking his head. Then, much more seriously, "Blair, Chuck is like a brother to me but you're like family too. Don't you think it's time to put the past behind you?"

"Nate, what are you saying?"

"They say the definition of crazy is doing the same thing over and over and expecting a different result." And she thought of how many times she assumed she didn't deserve happiness in her life. How many times she had changed her plans or thrown away something good to satisfy Chuck, and how many times that backfired dramatically in her face.

Nate touched her elbow lightly in a brotherly way. "Why don't you try someone new for a change?" His warm eyes sparkled, challenging her to move on.

"You know Archibald," she said, placing her hand on his gently, "you're smarter than you look."

He shook his head genially. "People always tell me that."

Later on, as they stepped out of the Carlyle, Nate began to hail a cab.

"I think I'll walk Nate," she said, pulling his arm down. "I have food for thought from Nate Archibald. My world really is out of whack," she said smiling for the first time all night. "Plus, it's only a few blocks."

"I'll walk you home," Nate suggested.

"It's alright," she answered. "I think I'd like to be alone with my thoughts for a moment."

They hugged goodbye and parted ways. She half thought that another Gossip Girl post would have her spotted with Nate Archibald. Blair Waldorf, the scarlet woman of the Upper East Side. She laughed quietly, noticing how bare the New York streets were. Uncommonly bare.

_Maybe Nate was right. Maybe she needed someone new_, she thought as her heels clicked roughly with the concrete sidewalk. Deep in thought, it took several moments for her to realize that a relatively young man in a grey hooded sweatshirt had moved beside her, pacing her.

"Have you heard of personal space," she barked to the stranger.

"Those are nice earrings," he said, motioning to the diamonds sparkling in the moonlight.

"I guess that's a 'no'?" she said, walking faster and looking around for other people. The way he was leering at her making her feel uncomfortable.

"You should give them to me," he said briefly flashing a knife before shoving his hand back in his pocket. "And your purse too."

Blair felt fear rush through her body. In the almost twenty-one years she had lived in the city, she had never felt unsafe on the streets of Manhattan. People were always teeming on every street, but the few people around tonight didn't seem to notice and she was too afraid to scream out. "You've got to kidding me," she said, half hoping that he was some illusion to distract her from her problems. "I don't need this right now," she said mostly to herself. "I'm pregnant and I just broke up with-" she said and finally admitted, "my boyfriend."

"Lady," he said, his voice gruff and unfeeling, "I don't care."

"Fine," she said, taking out her earrings and handing them over with her purse.

"And the ring too," he demanded.

Blair looked down at her ruby ring. It had been with her for so long that she had forgotten it was on. If Nate spelled 'home', this ring spelled 'Blair Waldorf'. It had begun to transcend even its origin. She twisted it around her finger a few times before saying, "It's not even worth anything." Noticing his steeled face, she added, "You can get more for my Manolo's." She gestured towards her shoes.

But the bargaining didn't work. "I don't want your shoes," he said with a look of disgust. "If the ring's not worth anything, you won't mind handing it over."

She twisted it slowly off, holding onto it tightly in the palm of her hand. "This is important to me," she pleaded.

"I said hand it over," this time his voice louder.

He grabbed her hand, ripping the ring from her fingers, when she heard another voice from across the street call over. "Is there a problem mister?" the voice asked moving in her direction.

Panic scrawled across the mugger's face, and he pushed Blair away violently as he began to sprint away. Her heel caught in the sidewalk crack, and she tumbled gracelessly backwards, her head slamming against what felt like a fire hydrant.

She watched her mugger's feet hurry away, as she struggled to keep her eyes open.

She heard someone rush to her side, as a blaring noise took over in her head.

And then her vision grew wide and faded away.

And her world went black.


	20. Blair Chapter 7

Blair heard a baby cry in the distance - the sound ringing alarm in her head. Her body bolted up into a seated position. She looked around, noting a field of peonies around her, a highly saturated landscape, a gingham dress on her body, and a furry clothed and sleeping Dorota close by. "Not this place again," she muttered to herself.

She stood up, shaking the dirt off that had gathered on her outfit. "What is going on here?" she asked to no one in particular.

She walked over to a sleeping Louis and nudged his shoulder. "Louis," she cried. "Louis!" But he simply kept sleeping, unaffected by her pleading tone.

She noticed another body lying a few feet away and approached it slowly. As she got closer, she saw a flash of Chuck's silver suit glimmer in the sunlight, but that quickly faded when she saw the two sleeping girls on both sides of him.

She began to run through the field looking helplessly for Dan, but he was nowhere to be found. She sat back down in the field, feeling the peonies swallow her up, consuming the energy in her body. "Help," she whimpered.

A large pink bubble floated softly down, and Blair tried her hardest to keep her eyes open as it descended upon her. This time, when it burst, there was no Serena.

Blair felt her eyes start to well up. "I just want to go home," she said looking down at her feet, but her ruby slippers were gone.

Dan was gone.

Serena was gone.

Everything was gone.

Blair's eyes opened slowly, her head throbbing at the white light overhead. She felt confused and sad, but she didn't know why.

"You've been here all night," she heard Serena's voice say in the corner of the room. "I think Blair would want you to take care of yourself. At least go downstairs and eat something."

_All night_, she thought. All night where? Where was she? And who was Serena talking to? The room was white and harsh and her vision was still blurry, the fuzzy outlines of just waking up taking far longer than usual to adjust for clarity.

She heard feet step closer to her, and she painfully twisted her head in their direction. "Hey," came a deep voice and concerned eyes through the fog of the room. She couldn't quite see him, but she knew the voice. She knew the eyes. Humphrey.

She felt tears well up again but this time for real as he sat down beside her, his hand running across her forehead, smoothing her hair. And for a brief moment, she thought to herself maybe she had found her way home.

She wanted to ask where she was, why her head pained so much, why her vision was so slow, and why her movements were so labored, but all she could manage was a brief, hoarse, and barely recognizable, "Water."

"Of course B," Serena said, hastily making her way over to a table with a pitcher and paper cups. The blond gingerly handed it to Blair. In her first movement, she sloshed several large drops on herself.

"Blair, I'm so sorry," Serena said, grabbing for a paper towel. "I filled it too high."

"It's ok," Blair croaked out, finally reaching the water to her lips, and promptly forgetting about any spilled water as she gracelessly gulped the liquid down. After a moment, she asked, "Where am I?"

"The hospital," Dan stated simply, his hand still resting by her cheek, and before she could ask why, he answered, "You cracked your head open pretty badly."

She tentatively raised her hand to the source of the throbbing and winced as her fingers ran across a gash with several stitches. She saw Dan wince as well. "See, I always thought your head was too hard to crack," Dan said in a smile, one that couldn't quite travel the short distance to his eyes.

"Dan," Serena scolded. "It's not really the time for quips." She took the cup from Blair's hand and returned to the table to pour more water.

Dan didn't respond to Serena. Instead, he slowly took Blair's hand, holding it calmly in between his own.

And that's when she remembered. She remembered clutching her purse in her hand. Feeling fear spread through her body. His grey sweatshirt. Her disbelief. Struggling for her ruby ring. Then blackness. Blackness as she had instinctively grabbed at her stomach. "My baby-" she began, sitting up with concern.

"Is fine," Serena quickly assuaged, her blues eyes sparkling with what she deemed good news. "The doctors said the baby is good. It's you we were worried about."

_I just wish this baby would go away._ Her previous words haunted her, making her head ache even more. "What if I had-"

"You didn't," Dan said, squeezing her hand, somehow knowing what she was going to say. _What if she had lost the baby?_ Dan smiled, this time the smile making it to his eyes. "And you won't," he said. "Between Chuck and Louis, I think they've flown every doctor in the tri-state area to attend to you."

At the mention of Chuck and Louis, Blair felt herself sober up a bit. She took her hand from Dan, and looking around, said, "How are you two allowed in here? I thought they only let family in the room."

She meant the comment to be biting. It only came out as tired.

"With your mom and dad are out of the country, Eleanor called to let them know that I was considered family," Serena said, adding, "and I believe the words were 'and you better treat her that way'." Serena laughed at the memory.

"And I convinced the nurse that I was the father of your baby," Dan said, still seated beside her, stubbornly refusing to budge after she unceremoniously dropped his hand.

Blair whipped her hand in his direction, immediately regretting the swift motion, but still narrowing her eyes to say, "You're not that good of a liar."

"It's a funny thing," he said, scooting even closer to the bed. "The nurse is an avid follower of Gossip Girl, and with the recent blasts, she was more than happy to accommodate me."

Blair looked suspiciously at Dan and turned her head slowly to Serena for confirmation. "Seriously, that's what he did," the blonde nodded, looking one part embarrassed and two parts uncomfortable.

"Yep," Dan said, looking oddly proud of himself. "Beth, that's the nurse's name, said she was a 'Dair' fan." He laughed a bit as he lowered his sarcastic air quotes from the air. "I'm a little embarrassed to admit I know what that means, but I'm blaming that on growing up with a little sister."

"And an affinity for bad teenage television dramas," Blair retorted sweetly.

Dan shifted uncomfortably in his seat. "That is a unsubstantiated rumor."

Blair smiled. The first smile since she had woken up. "Can I remind you that I've seen your Netflix queue?"

Dan hung his head in defeat. "What's on his queue?" Serena asked, curiosity lining her lips like too much gloss.

Dan cleared his throat. "I really like that nurse though," he said changing the topic quickly. "When Chuck tried to get in, she told him that no self-respecting human being would help enable your twisted relationship. Can you believe she got that all from Gossip Girl's blog?" Blair wasn't sure if she should laugh or cry at that question. "I'm glad you woke up," Dan said, taking her hand again, the moment morphing into something far more serious as she felt his fingers lace with her own. His stubborn refusal to take a hint warming her heart a bit in a way only he could do. "For a while there, you really worried me Waldorf."

There were moments in life where words weren't really necessary. In fact, they just stumbled in the way of true genuineness. This didn't happen very often to Blair Waldorf. It was perhaps a contributing factor to her years of reading and amassing a vocabulary that would rival any SAT test-maker. She wanted to always be prepared, ready to express the moment with the best chosen words so all would know exactly what she wanted to convey.

But here, in that harsh white room, terrifying blue hospital gown, tubes and beeps and monitors providing all the ambiance of a trucker bar, Blair felt one of those moments. She felt her breathing grow heavy. Her heart beat a little more fiercely. She felt his hand in hers, a feeling so familiar it almost scared her. Words didn't escape her - they just weren't needed as she drank in his concern for her.

"Yeah, you know what," Serena said, shattering the moment. Blair looked away, watching her best friend fidget uncharacteristically with her nail. "We should probably get the doctor," she added. "I'll be right back."

Blair watched as her friend left the room. The moment was gone and now she just felt awkward.

She looked around the room, her hand still in his. "There are a lot of peonies here," she observed. Lame, she thought to herself, but it was true. The room was filled with bouquets of beautiful pink flowers. Beautiful but suffocating after her dream. They made her think of Louis and her empty promises. Of Chuck and his endless disappointments.

"Yeah," Dan said, moving back a little to reach for the nightstand by the bed. He lifted a book, an old looking book, the edges brown with time. "I got you this," he said, handing it to her. It was a copy of _Pride and Prejudice_. Actually, it was her copy of _Pride and Prejudice._ "Well," he amended," I didn't so much as get it for you as I finally read it like you asked me too."

She had. She had asked him what felt like a lifetime ago. She had lent her rare edition to him two days before leaving for Monaco, and she had promised that if anything happened to it, she now had an army at her disposal. "It was good," Dan said. "You know, if you're into the happy ending thing," he finished with purpose in his voice.

She smiled. "Happy ending? What's that?" The words came out sadder than she had intended.

Dan shook his head, looking around the room as well. "I thought about getting you flowers, you know," he said. "But daisies seemed too commonplace. Lilies too morbid." He paused. "I thought about going Bronte and getting a field of heather but I didn't like the message," he said shaking his head. "I know you like peonies, but I didn't get you any. They kind of seem to be your harbinger of sadness."

"What, was 'harbinger' on your word of the day calendar?" Blair scoffed. Watching him ramble was starting to make her feel more like herself.

"Actually, no," Dan said, rubbing the back of his neck with his hand. "It was 'fissiparous', but with you unconscious in the hospital, I didn't want to talk about pieces falling apart."

The sadness in his voice stopped Blair, halting her typical sharp tongue. "I suppose peonies have been around in a few of my least favorite moments," she conceded, visions of throwing them on an elevator floor, hopelessly picking them out of the Empire State Building's trash, and clutching them as she saw a tear-stained, raccoon-eyed Jenny Humphrey coming to the forefront of her mind. "Although that might have more to do with who gave them to me," she finished a little more tongue in cheek then she had supposed. "How do you even know I like peonies?" she asked sincerely.

"Writers notice details," he said and then much more seriously, "and I also have an active interest in you."

She wanted to ask why. Her situation at the moment was far from perfect. Preceding that, they came from two different worlds - two different styles, really. Why would he have an on-going interest in her, especially after their last conversation? If he had directed the words 'trailer trash' towards her, she would have been fine with his mugging and consequent leaving on the street to die.

Well, maybe not fine.

"Dan," she began hesitantly, "about what I said to you the last time we talked -"

"Look who's awake," announced an older blond man in a white coat as he entered the room holding a clipboard. "We were really starting to worry."

Blair sighed. She would have to wait a little longer to clear the air with Dan.


	21. Blair Chapter 8

"So, you are saying that I am a dog," said a thickly-accented voice as she propped another satin pillow behind Blair's back.

"No, Dorota," Blair replied, flopping her arms on the bed. "You're missing the point!" Although, to be fair, she wasn't really sure what the point was either. The rest of her hospital stay had been littered with over-attentive possible-father-to-be's who never left her side once she awoke. She had been poked and prodded and tested and retested. And even though several doctors confirmed that all she needed was a few stressless days of bed rest to recuperate, both Louis and Chuck insisted that she stay at least another day for observation. However, even with both men hovering and demanding doctor attention, she was left mostly to her thoughts, and those thoughts kept drifting back, in an unsettling way really, to the dreams she was having.

"The point being that I am a dog?" Dorota responded bitterly, clearly stuck on the fact that she had played the part of Toto.

Blair watched her maid and confidant as she flitted around her room, placing a bell on her nightstand and several fashion magazines at the foot of her bed. "No," she said vehemently. "I think," Blair paused to collect, "I think it means that I've been lost, homeless really, because I can't find my way out of the mess of the maze I've created for myself."

_That seemed intelligent_, she thought to herself but was quickly deflated when Dorota replied, "But why was I dog?"

"Dorota, focus!" Blair snapped.

Dorota paused from her routine of making Blair comfortable in bed and sighed. "I'm not sure how Miss Blair's fevered coma dream is important," she said eyeing the small brunette under the satin sheets.

"Dan was my scarecrow, Dorota," she said exasperated, as though the comment carried a lot of weight.

Apparently, it didn't because Dorota said flippantly, "What does that mean? He chases bird from the field? He has straw for brain? He wears flannel?" She returned to her routine, fluffing the pillows around Blair's resting body.

"Actually," Blair said, a tad sheepishly, "he was in flannel, but I don't think that's what it means."

"Then what does it mean, Miss Freud?"

Blair paused. _What did it mean?_ She searched for an answer. She never assumed Dan was without a brain. For all of his faults, both by choice and breeding, she never doubted Dan Humphrey's intelligence. "Well," she said, the realization setting slowly, "Dorothy had the strongest connection with the scarecrow."

"Alright," Dorota said. "So I guess you choose him in the dream?"

To be honest, she had forgotten about that detail. She was supposed to make a choice. Blair had been so focused on not being able to get home in the dream, of losing Dan and Serena and her hope, of seeing how useless Louis and Chuck had been, that she had forgotten the most important part of her first dream. "I didn't really make a choice in the dream," she said absentmindedly.

"Perhaps you need to," Dorota said sitting down beside Blair.

Blair exhaled dejectedly, leaning into her maid's shoulder. "But how do I choose Dan?" she asked sincerely. "I'm carrying another man's baby."

"Does he mind, Miss Blair?"

This she knew in certainty. He had made the point several times. "He doesn't seem to," she said. Then added, "That's not normal, is it?"

"Who's to say what is and is not normal?" said the calm, Polish-lined voice. And then a few beats later, "Does Dan Humphrey make you happy?"

Happy?

Happiness. It wasn't something she had ever really truly worked towards. For a brief moment in time, she thought she was happy with her parents. Then, they started to fight and her mother started to criticize and her father started to ignore. She swore she was happy with Nate for a day or two. His classically disheveled hair and lacrosse charm making her swoon with future possibilities. Then, she started to notice how his palms would heat up whenever her best friend walked into the room and her insecurities pushed her to her knees, worshiping at the porcelain alter in her bathroom, trying her best to match Serena's beauty. She never fooled herself into thinking she was happy with Chuck. Turned on? Yes. At the edge of her seat? Yes. Special? Of course. But their relationship was never about being happy. That's what Louis was supposed to be until she read a plus where a plus shouldn't have been on a pregnancy test.

But happy? With Dan?

She didn't really want to say the answer. The universe had a habit of destroying her when she asked for too much.

She lifted her head off of Dorota's shoulder, not really remembering how it had gotten there to begin with. "I just think," Blair began, "I just think Serena would never forgive me."

Dorota stood up from the bed, facing Blair. "Miss Serena has already poofed back to LA in her pink bubble."

The point wasn't lost on her, but... "But she did drop everything to fly here to make sure I was alright," Blair said. "She's family, and Dan, he belongs to her."

Dorota shook her head. "Two things Miss Blair." And then holding one finger up, she said, "Jeden: While loyalty is an admirable trait, your loyalty has brought you a lot of grief. Maybe you need to put yourself first once."

Blair thought of all the times she had landed in peril trying to help Serena or Chuck. How many schemes had blown up in her face. What she had lost being faithful to people who weren't always faithful to her.

Dorota held up two fingers and continued, "Dwa: People don't belong to others unless they want to." She moved closer to Blair, fixing the sheets around her body like a mother with her child. "I read that book," she said leaning in closer, "and I know who wrote it." Blair smiled at how proud Dorota looked of herself. "Mr. Humphrey has made his feelings clear, don't you think?"

Blair took the covers Dorota had been fussing with and dramatically threw them over her head. She heard Dorota laugh reluctantly on the other side of the satin, and she peeped her head out. "Miss Blair," Dorota said, fixing the hair that had been displaced in Blair's brief temper tantrum. "All I want for you is to be happy."

Blair huffed loudly, her body caving in with the release of air. "Life is too hard, Dorota," she exclaimed. "I need a pair of magic ruby slippers that will solve my problems."

"I will call Prada in the morning," Dorota said, smiling. "Until then-"

But she didn't get to finish. A small knock on the door had halted her words, and a timid-looking Dan Humphrey stood at Blair's door waiting to be welcomed.


	22. Blair Chapter 9

Dan smiled sheepishly, polite to a fault and clearly apologetic for what he saw as interrupting. He adjusted the strap around his shoulder slightly, the leather satchel bag resting on his back, barely visible from the front - just a brown triangle peeking out from just above his right hip. "Hello Dorota," he said in that kind, warm, Humphrey way. Tilting his head, he asked, "How's Anastasia?"

Dorota's face lit up immediately. "She's robust and happy. All that a mother can want."

Dan nodded in approval, then moved his eyes to Blair. Blair locked eyes with him. It had been the first time they had seen each other since being interrupted at the hospital.

They stared across the room, unspeaking, the moment growing awkward and... nervous. Yes, Blair settled on 'nervous' because her heart had started to beat faster and she could feel her insides start to buck up against her skin. That would probably be 'nervous', she told herself.

The moment must have been awkward for Dorota as well, standing between them, looking from one staring person to another, both completely ignoring her. "Thank you for asking," she directed towards Dan, but it didn't seem to break the spell, his eyes still trained across the room. Dorota smiled, moving closer to him and the door. "You have a thoughtful nature about you," Dorota said as she approached the boy. And then pointedly, in Blair's direction, "It is a good aura."

Dan finally looked away, studying Dorota's round face instead. "Thank you, I think," he replied.

Dorota nodded and turned back towards the bed. "Miss Blair, if you need me, I will be down the stairs. Your bell is by your bed." She started as though she were going to leave but leaned closer to Dan and, in hushed tone, said something along the lines of, "At least you got to be a flannel-wearing scarecrow."

Blair smiled. For all Dorota's worldly wisdom, she could still be petty. It often gave Blair hope for herself.

Dan walked closer to the bed. "Did Dorota crack her head open too?" he asked, clearly perplexed at the odd comment before her departure.

"It's her Polish eccentricity," Blair said, waving it away in the air. "Pay no mind."

He was as close as the nightstand now, and he tentatively touched the handle of her bell. "I can't believe you actually have a bell," he said, laughter and incredulity teasing his lips.

She sat up at his comment, feeling her defensive mode kick in. "Did you come to mock me, Humphrey?" she challenged. "You know, I'm practically on my deathbed recovering from a brief coma. If you came here to mock, that's really _thoughtless_ of you."

He placed the bell gently down, making sure that it didn't ring in the slightest. "Your deathbed?" laughter still evident in his tone.

"Yes," she sulked. "Did you see the bruise around my stitches?" pointing to her head. "It's like my hopes of having decent hair have died for the next month as it grows back in."

Dan laughed. He clearly wasn't taking her seriously, but it wasn't really bothering her either.

"Wow," Dan said. She narrowed her eyes at him no doubt poised to make fun of her shallowness, but his next words surprised her instead. "You do realize you could be bald and you'd still be beautiful, right?"

She felt disconcerted. Here she was in bed, dwindling daylight still pouring into her bedroom making her look pallid from her stay at the hospital, her hair a god-awful mess, her attire less than presentable, and Dan had the audacity to call her beautiful. "Did you have a real reason for coming here?" she snapped, trying to regain some footing in the conversation. "Talking about me being bald is going to get a bell ring and some of Dorota's Polish eccentricities kicking you out of here."

He blinked his eyes, turning his head to the side and chuckling a little bit. "Yeah," he said pulling at the strap around his shoulder again, "actually, I did come for a reason." He pulled his bag around to the front revealing a bouquet of flowers poking out of the corner of the bag. "I got you these," he said, pulling them from their makeshift home in his bag and handing them to her. "I figured I missed the boat on the whole flower/hospital thing. Thought I'd make up for it."

She stared at the bouquet of white and purple flowers, the little petals bunching together in bundles to create an impressive, almost mosaic, feeling. "Hydrangeas?" she asked, not because she wasn't certain of the flowers, more because she wasn't certain exactly how he knew she liked these as well.

"Yeah. Jenny used to have a thing for them. Had them all over the loft, and I thought they were nice." He smirked. "Come to find out, she liked them because _you_ liked them."

She brought the flowers to just below her nose, smelling their sweet earthiness. It was part of their charm - a subtle scent that never overpowered like so many other perfuming blooms. She was struck by the fact that he had somehow known she was partial to them - they had been linked even back then - and his words from the hospital came tumbling back. "Writers notice details," she whispered, more to the plant then the man standing in front of her.

She moved her satin sheets from her waist and legs and stood up slowly in search of a proper home for the flowers. As she arranged them in a vase she had sitting on her bureau, she heard Dan clear his throat and say, "The florist said that hydrangeas mean devotion and understanding."

She turned, looking him straight in the eye, and far less pointedly than earlier said, "Is that somehow significant?"

He rubbed the back of his neck, crooked his head again, and smiled a smile she knew carried awareness. She knew the flower's meaning was significant, and he knew she just wanted him to say it.

He didn't though. Maybe, she thought, maybe it really was more her job to tell him how she felt. He had already done a beautiful job declaring his feelings to her more than once. Maybe it was her turn this time.

"How are you doing?" he asked. "I'm sorry I didn't stay at the hospital. It became a little suffocating with all the testosterone."

She nodded in agreement. "I'm better," she said, moving closer to where he stood. "My head has stopped throbbing. It's more of a dull endless ache now," she grimaced as she touched the back of her head delicately.

"That's good," he said, filling the space between them with words, "I guess." He began to shift from foot to foot, a sort of in-place pacing that only he could pull off. "Look," he said, his tone suddenly anxious. "I really came because I got you something."

"I know," Blair said condescendingly. "They're sitting on my bureau."

"No," he stepped closer to her. "Um," he took her hand, guiding her to sit at the edge of her bed with him. "I got you something else." The anxious tone still present.

"Wow," she said, playfully. "Did Serena tell you I like presents?"

He snorted a bit, relieving some of the anxiety. "Everyone likes presents, Blair."

"Even poor people from Brooklyn?" she asked innocently.

He shook his head smiling, looked down at his feet, then back up at her sideways. "You're never going to let the Brooklyn thing go, are you?"

"No." Her own lips curled into a smile as well.

He reached into his bag again, this time pulling out a black velvet-covered box. "Here," he said, lifting one of her hands so he could drop it into her palm.

Blair scrunched her nose as she examined the box - too small for anything but a ring or earrings - and Blair's heart began to race. She's seen far too many ring boxes for a twenty year old and she had learned the hard way what happened when these sorts of things happened too quickly, but she couldn't help hoping that the contents of the box meant something - something huge. Something more than a nice pair of earrings.

She carefully opened the box, and she felt her racing heart stop. Nestled in black velvet, was a simple gold band.

A gold band with a pure red stone on top.

It was a ruby ring.

She looked back up at him and then back down at the jewel. "I," he began, already stammering, "I noticed you always used to wear a ring that looked like that," he pointed to the box, but all she saw was his finger because she was too transfixed by the scarlet gem. "I figured the mugger took it, and I thought it might be special," he continued. "I know it's not the same thing. This one's a little more simple than the one I remember. The original probably carried a specific meaning and I don't want to tread on that," he rambled. "I just thought -"

"It's perfect," she said, cutting him off. In the _Wizard of Oz, _Dorothy had earned her ruby slippers by dropping a house on the witch, and here Dan Humphrey was just giving them to her because this ring, in this box, in her hand, felt like home. Or maybe at least a way home.

Writer notice details, she reminded herself, and he must have seen how lost she had been. And at that thought, she felt her whole body start to well up, tears inevitable.

"Ahh, good," Dan said, expelling a massive sigh of relief he must have been holding the whole time. "Good because I was worried..."

She turned her face up to his and she tried to listen, but the sound of Dan's voice widened and stretched out, buzzing but not really registering in her head as she stared at him. And while he prattled on about not stepping on her toes or whether or not she was just being nice or what to do if it didn't fit or something like that, Blair realized that for the first time, she was with someone who it just worked with. She had never been with someone who everything just worked with. He noticed the details and he listened to her and her cared about her. And god-help-her, she felt the same way about him.

In every relationship she had ever been in, the problem was never the circumstance, it had always been the people. Nate liked Serena instead. Then, Blair liked Chuck instead. Chuck was unreliable and she never truly trusted him - she wanted a normal relationship and he wanted her to understand his dark side by sleeping with his uncle. Louis was perfect in every way but she never loved him. She couldn't stay faithful to him physically, and if she was completely honest about her relationship with Dan over the summer, emotionally. The people were never right, including herself. All of the problems were internal, within the couple.

But not with Dan. They just worked. They worked so well when together it scared her because it was unfamiliar, almost unnatural. She wasn't used to having it easy. The only setbacks were outside of their relationship. Serena. Chuck. Her pregnancy. The Upper East Side. Gossip Girl. But _he_ was never the problem. _She_ was never the problem. And that _had _to mean something.

"I choose you," she blurted out, stopping him mid-ramble.

"Come again?" he asked, his hand resting on her knee.

"Serena's an idiot," Blair said simply.

Dan looked confused. "She can be flighty," he said. "I think idiot is going a little far, but that's not what I needed you to repeat."

She swallowed, thinking how to explain this. "All those times," Blair began, "she could have chosen you and she never did."

"Well, I mean that is harsh," he started. "Serena and I did date for a significant amount of," and he stopped. "Wait," he said sharply. "You choose me?"

His words were slow and deliberate and sort of not really a question once she saw the look in his eyes.

"Yes," she said, placing her hand on top of the one he had laid on her knee. "I choose you."

The confusion started to clear. "Does that mean-" He stopped short of completing the thought.

_Does that mean we can be together? Does that mean that I'm sorry for what I said days ago? Does that mean we can stop acting like we're not perfect for one another? _She thought the words so hard she was convinced they were etched across her face has well.

"Yes." Hopeful, she sat waiting for his response. Breathe bated, expectation riding high. It was a leap for her to declare it, but she knew he was there to catch her.

Until there was an agonizingly long silence.

And a blank stare on Dan's face.

"I mean if you still want-"

"Stop there," Dan said, the earlier anxiety-ridden tone completely diminished and replaced with a clear confidence. "I'm not silent because I don't want you. Trust me," he said, the hand on her knee squeezing in affirmation, "I want you." He placed his other hand on her cheek. "I feel like I've made that pretty clear."

His voice was low and humming with desire, and she unconsciously closed her eyes in response. When she opened them, she asked, "Then why aren't you responding."

"Well," he said, his hand falling to her shoulder and brushing her hair back, "you're going to have give me a moment here." And in all seriousness, he said cheekily, "It's just I'm not used to such decisive decision making. I'm more accustomed to getting stringed along - preferably for several months with no real hope."

She wanted to laugh, but instead, she could play this game. "I can change my mind if you'd like," she said as earnestly as she could muster given the situation.

He looked up playfully, as though considering it. "Eh," he said, "I don't think you need to do that." He shook his head back and forth. "In our short time together, I think I've finally figured something out."

"And what is that?" she half-whispered, because to be honest, his hand that had dropped to her shoulder was now placed at the small of her back and she found it incredibly distracting.

He leaned in. Forehead touching hers. His palm gently pulling her closer. Her breathing growing heavier with each little movement. His words came out almost in a whisper or maybe lower than that. "When I should just shut up and do this."

His lips on hers were soft but shocking. Not shocking because she hadn't expected them. Not shocking because she hadn't wanted them. Just shocking because they were new. Every time they had kissed before, there was always a clock ticking in the background.

Tick. When would others find out?

Tick. When would he realize this wouldn't work?

Tick. When would she destroy this?

Tick. When would the world say no?

But this kiss - it was silent. Peaceful. No clock. Just them. Pressed together. Teeth tugging gently on her lower lip. Tongues exploring. Her face cradled in his hand. Heat building with each moment.

"Wow," she mumbled breathlessly half-way between his lips.

"Yeah," he said, almost incoherently, but smiling with a touch of cockiness. "We're good at this."

And they continued, Blair beginning to push Dan onto the bed when she heard a knock on the door. They bolted up, fixing their hair and clothes as Dorota strolled in with a knowing look on her face.

Then Dorota's look morphed into concern. "Miss Blair," she said, "your mail is here." She handed Blair a long white envelope with the hospital's fertility clinic's address at the top.

She drew a deep breath, looking in Dan's direction for comfort. He grabbed her hand, interlacing their fingers. She smiled sadly, removing her hand from his to peel open the closing.

She looked at him again, calm and strong, belying the fact that regardless of the paternity test's results, her life was going to change in the quick moment it took for her to read the contents within the envelope. "Can you do it?" she asked, pointing the folded paper in his direction. She didn't need him to save her, but it would be nice to know she had someone on her side, willing to help her get through this.

"Of course."

Of course he would be there for her.

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**Author's Note: Hey all! If you've stuck through this so far, I want to thank you again. My number of comments have sort of dwindled, so I'm assuming many have dropped this story. However, I ****really**** appreciate those of you who did comment. Comments are my best motivator when I sit down to write. Anyway, this story has one more chapter and then perhaps a small epilogue-sorta-thing. There's a light at the tunnel, so to speak, and I just wanted to take the moment now to thank you for bothering to read this story. It's meant the world to me! **


	23. Blair Chapter 10

Blair had very consciously chosen her ensemble for the meeting she was about to partake in. Not that she didn't normally attend to every detail - from the product on the tips of her hair to polish on her fingertips and then back down to the designer shoes on her feet, Blair Waldorf was aware of every bit of her style. Minutia to some, but to Blair Waldorf, beauty lie in the details that made up the whole. Today though, she had intentionally chosen a business motif. No nonsense colors. In control with the slight pattern. Her outfit would portray what her emotions couldn't.

She had also chosen not to call ahead. Finding others off-guard usually meant that she had the upper hand, and she expected a fight or a protest or a demand that would change her life even more than it was already being tilted by circumstance. Instead, she chose a time she knew he would be home and slipped up the elevator using the key card he had given her.

She had already done this once today. Showed up, relatively unannounced, slipped into the hotel room with her key card to show another man the results.

His results were negative. He wasn't the father.

That trip had been easier.

She heard a 'ding' as the elevator reached its destination. The doors began to open, and she steeled herself with a sharp intake of breath. She felt her chest rise and her shoulders set high, and she finished by raising her chin in the slightly defiant way that had become her trademark.

One step in. Two steps in.

"Blair," she heard him stand up to greet her, laying his newspaper on the seat he previously occupied.

It was morning, and he was still wearing a robe. A robe rich in both fabric and pattern and befitting of a king. But he looked smaller than she remembered, and she quietly wondered how her hopes and dreams ever rested on his shoulders.

Maybe he wasn't smaller, but there was definitely less of a sparkle.

She walked closer to him, realizing in the moment that she didn't really need to wear a power suit to feel power around him any longer. She handed him a long white envelope, and as she watched his face for recognition of its importance and as he began to open it, she said, "I told you once that I was your family." His eyes scanned the document in his hands and then looked up, so she continued, "And now you know that'll always be true."

In Chuck's hands was the letter from the clinic, and they were 99.9% sure that Louis Grimaldi was not the biological father of her baby.

She let the information sit for a moment, marinating in a strange awkwardness, but Chuck deserved time to digest it before their conversation began again.

He folded the letter up and placed it carefully back in the envelope, all the time keeping his face shielded by the morning light's shadows. And when he looked up, he seemed surprisingly calm, but she knew better. Chuck was rarely calm, especially when it dealt with family.

He took a step closer to her, the envelope clutched in his hand and high by his face. "Blair," he began, "I want a life with you. This paper is fate." He shook the envelope as if its white flap agreed.

His tone was earnest and it was the only thing that kept her from groaning. "Chuck," she said quietly, "that paper says we'll always be in each other's life." She reached for the envelope and taking it from his hand, finished, "But it's not fate." She shook her head as she stepped back. "It was a choice," she said, accenting her last word with a definitive pitch. "A choice we both made."

"But -" he started, but she stopped him with her hand in the air.

She had thought about this conversation for months. Ever since she accepted her pregnancy, she knew Chuck was the father. It was the logical conclusion from her irresponsible decision the night of the Constance event. It was also an emotional response to being tied to one man for life - she wasn't really ready for that with Louis. But Chuck, she had always been ready for that.

Until now. "I'm not in love with you anymore." The words spilled out of her before she could revise and edit. It wasn't what she had planned to say. She had planned on talking about how they never worked. How an intimate relationship between them would only damage their child the way it had damaged her for so long. That their love, while great, burned too intensely to involve another life.

"You've said that before," he said, moving closer to her, his voice dipping low and his hand reaching for her face.

She had. Steeped in red dress and jewels, tears rimming her eyes, she had looked him in the eyes and told him she did not love him anymore. But she hadn't meant it . She knew it. He knew it. "But I mean it now," she said.

And his eyes flickered, because he knew it and she knew it now.

She _did_ mean it this time.

"And what?" he asked, anger starting to creep in with his hurt. "Are you in love with Humphrey?"

She flinched at the hatred in his last word, her head falling down to her feet when she caught a glimpse of her hand steeped in a red jewel sparkling up at her. "I think I am," she said hesitantly as she raised her head to meet his angry gaze - the realization dawning even on her as she looked at her new ruby ring.

He scoffed. "You never had to _think_ it with me," he said, but it was more of a plea than an accusation.

She took a small step towards him and reached for his hand. "Maybe that was part of the problem," she said, squeezing his fingers in her own. "With you, my head and my heart were never in agreement."

She felt her eyes well with tears as he started to back down. His shoulders fell first, then his hand from hers. As ridiculous as it might sound, she never wanted Chuck to feel sadness, but, she thought as she wiped the tears from her eyes, Dorota had been right - it was time to put herself before Chuck.

"Last year," she said, hopeful that this conversation could end on a more positive note, "you said you wanted me to be happy."

The statement hung in the air for a moment, uncertain of its direction.

"I didn't think it would be with Dan Humphrey," he replied, now clearly dejected.

She couldn't help but a smile a bit and said, "Neither did I."

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><p>As she stepped outside the Empire, she shed the thick business jacket she had worn - the hot September air dancing across her newly bared arms filling her with relief. She smiled as her eyes traveled the long distance up a skyscraper in front of her. New York, while imposing to some, always felt protective to her. She felt home and safe.<p>

"How did that go?" she heard a familiar voice ask, his voice echoing slightly into the coffee cup he held before his lips. The sight of Dan Humphrey waiting for her outside the Empire was just as comforting as the skyscrapers around her.

"Well," she said, reaching for the other coffee in Dan's hand, "it was a Bass encounter that didn't need arbitration, so I'll count that as one in the win column."

She took a small sip of the coffee and silently wondered how he had timed her conversation with Chuck so perfectly as to have perfectly-temperatured decaf coffee ready on her departure from the building. Perhaps, he was just that good with coffee, she mused. Either way, he hadn't missed a beat. He had been there when she visited Louis earlier that morning at his hotel, and he had been there at the Empire - to hug her as she went in and be there for her when she came out.

She swept towards him, taking his hand into hers as she began walking in the direction of home.

She saw a small smile creep across his face from the corner of his eye. He leaned closer to her and whispered, "You know we're in public right?" suspiciously eyeing their hands interlocked.

True, it wasn't really something she would normally do, especially with Dan "Brooklyn" Humphrey, but this morning, after going through everything she had gone through in the past few months, she couldn't find the energy to care. To save face, she said, "I've been watching the sales on your book." She began walking again, his hand still in hers. "I think it's acceptable to be seen in public with a successful novelist," she continued and then quickly added, "well, once you finally own up to writing it, anyway."

The tone was playful and he smiled again. She smiled too.

Dan Humphrey had become contagious.

"About that," he began, "actually the editor already knows who I am. It became a legal issue that Vanessa emailed me about, and after you and Nate and my dad reacted relatively well to the book, I figured I'd let them publish it."

"But why is it anonymous?" Blair asked, a little shocked Dan hadn't told her this sooner.

"Well," he said, dragging the word out as they strolled down the sidewalk, "the publisher thought it would be beneficial to my book. Anonymous tell-alls have buzz."

She was starting to see where he was going. "And then when the author is revealed," she began.

"There's twice the publicity," Dan finished, shaking his head somewhat proudly.

"That's fiendishly clever, Humphrey," she said, also proudly. "I had no clue you had that in you."

He puffed out his chest in mock bravado. "Well, I figured I needed to step up my game if I was going to be around Blair Waldorf daily," Dan said squeezing her hand.

"Daily?" she said, cocking a perfectly shaped eyebrow in lighthearted challenge.

"Oh yeah," he said, mostly ignoring her comment. "You know, I'm glad now that my station in life is improving I'm...what did you say?" he asked, also lightheartedly.

"Acceptable," she answered briskly. "Bask in the moment while you can. I'm sure once your failed follow up shows up on the shelves, I'll have to dump you for a media mogul."

"Oh, please," he responded. "We all know I'm more of a Margaret Mitchell and the sheer success of _Inside_ will deter me from picking up a pen ever again."

A small laugh bubbled to her lips. Then she set them straight again, enjoying their back and forth too much to stop. "Then what's going to keep me around, Humphrey?" she asked, her tone serious but her eyes mischievous.

He stopped in the middle of the sidewalk, appearing to think deeply. "My charming smile?" he finally answered, smiling in response.

Blair let go of his hand briefly to wave it in the air dismissively. "Every Upper East Side playboy has one of those," she returned.

"My intellect?" he countered.

"I go to Columbia," her easy pretentiousness oozing with each word. "That's easy enough to find elsewhere."

He paused again, searching the ground for an answer. Then, he lifted his head, and in all seriousness, said, "How about -" but the sentence was cut off by his lips crashing against hers.

After a moment, she pulled away breathlessly. Half-heartedly fixing her hair, she said, "That will do for now," and she began to walk again.

"For now?" he called after her.

She stopped and turned around, and in all seriousness as well, said, "Shut up and kiss me again, Humphrey."

He stepped forward with a look in his eyes that made her go weak in the knees. "As you wish," he replied so closely the words touched her lips with his own.

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**Audrey Hepburn once said, ****"Nothing is impossible, the word itself says "I'm possible"!"**** And while I don't usually condone such corny inspirational language, maybe our Queen B's idol has a valid argument. Case in point, check out the streaming video of said queen kissing our continuing-to-be-not-so-lonely boy. Out in the open! And smiling afterwards! Has she no shame? And what happened to Brooklyn's judgy morals? Didn't these two formally despise one another? I have to admit, they did look happy. When did that happen? And why wasn't I informed in more detail? You know what they say though - nothing good ever lasts long in the Upper East Side, but I commend the two for trying. Who knows - maybe this couple will beat the odds. Whatever becomes of this path, we do know it will be fun watching. As per usual, thanks for reading, my sweets. XOXO.**

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**AN: This is the end of my story. I wanted to leave Dan and Blair happy, walking with coffee, and being all bantery - you know, all the stuff we Dair fans love so much. Hopefully, I've achieved that for you. I have a short epilogue planned. Something in the not-so-distant future, maybe from Serena's point of view. I have plans of writing it relatively soon, but until then, I hope you enjoyed this. Your comments on the last chapter were **_**so**_** amazing. Thank you so much for taking the time to let me know what you thought! And thank you so much for following me through this meandering, sometimes over-meta story. It's been fun to write, and here's hoping that Dair will be written with respect in the coming season. (Oh, and also that Blair is ****not**** pregnant! Because, man, that would suck!)**


	24. Epilogue: Serena

**Epilogue: Serena, Thanksgiving**

Her first steps into Grand Central were eerily familiar, but while part of her thought to watch out for unwanted amateur paparazzi, most of her was just relieved to be back home. A dose of New York, with his depth of color rather than brightness of color, was exactly what she needed to help keep her grounded after her prolonged stay in LA.

It was Thanksgiving, and she had promised her mother she would be back to celebrate with family. Lily had wanted to send a car service to the airport to pick her up, but Serena had convinced her otherwise, explaining that after LA, she was done with trafficy car rides and would prefer the opportunity to utilize public transportation that actually worked.

Late autumn in New York was beautiful, and Serena soaked up the golden browns and burnt oranges around her as she strolled home. People were walking in every direction, the chaos creating such an elegant scene that when she arrived at her building she almost didn't want to go inside.

She exchanged pleasantries with the doormen as she walked in. They remarked that she was so tan, practically the sun itself, and she regaled how she had missed New York so much and was so excited to see their faces. They hoped that they'd see her face more often now, and she explained that her plans weren't quite set yet.

When she arrived at the penthouse, Rufus was the first to greet her with a classic Humphrey bear hug. "Serena," he said, the creases in his older but still handsome face smiling along with his mouth. "It's so great you're back." Then looking to the floor where a single oversized purse lay. "Is that all you brought?"

"No," Serena replied. "I had the rest shipped over. It should be here soon."

"Good," Rufus said. "Lily's so happy to have you back. She would hate it if you were leaving so soon."

They stood in a quiet awkwardness for a moment. Serena liked Rufus, he was warm and inviting just like Dan, but she had never taken to him as a father figure the way Eric had - perhaps because of Dan.

She heard him clear his throat and watched him shove his hands in his jeans. "Well," he said, breaking the silence, "LA looks like it's treated you well. You seem like you have..." he said, pausing to find the word, "direction."

Serena felt her face break into a smile. She had. "I do," she responded. "At least I think I do."

"Good," he said, and reaching to hug her briefly again, he said, "Well, we'll catch up soon." Pulling away, he explained, "I need to go assist my son in the kitchen." He raised his eyebrows for a moment. "He's taking on more responsibility this year. Usually, he just opens the cranberries and proclaims his job accomplished."

The quiet man walked away in the direction of the kitchen, and Serena quietly walked in, dropping her oversized bag on the couch. She began taking in her surroundings - not much had changed. There was a new painting in the living room but nothing too shocking to cause alarm. She had began looking at a few family pictures, framed in elegant silver, when she heard the ding of an elevator. She watched as a gorgeous brunette stepped over the threshold, perfectly coordinated, and much more pregnant than she remembered.

"Blair!" she exclaimed, running in the brunette's direction to hug her. "I'm surprised you're not in Paris with your parents," she said as she crushed her against her body.

Blair stepped back, straightening her dress, appreciative of Serena's zealous hug but also appreciative of order. "They're really busy right now," Blair responded. "Eleanor and Cyrus are getting their things together to move back when the baby comes."

_The baby comes._ Wow, Serena thought. She knew Blair was pregnant, but being away for several months made it so easy to forget. "Wow," Serena said. "So that's in..." She tried to calculate the months in her head.

"February," Blair responded quickly. "But my mother said be prepared for January. Apparently, Waldorf women like to get ahead from the very start."

"Wow." The truth of the situation still stunning Serena.

Blair laughed a little bit, beginning to walk into the living room. "You've already said that."

Serena smiled. "I know," the blond said, "but I just can't believe you're going to be a mother."

Blair sat down on the sofa, shaking her head. "Neither can I," she said.

It was the first apprehension she had heard in Blair's voice in the past two months. Their phone calls had been brief and not really telling about the stress in her best friend's life, but to be honest, Serena wasn't ready to have a heavy conversation after just stepping into her home. Instead, she focused on the positive. "You're glowing B," Serena said, sitting beside her, and it was true. Blair was glowing. From the minute she stepped off the elevator, Serena had felt a tinge of jealousy at how beautiful her best friend appeared. There was something calm and ethereal about her.

"If by glowing," Blair said, tilting her head with disgust, "you mean I look bloated, I'll agree." She finished with a trademark artificial Waldorf smile, and Serena shook her head in total denial.

They sat immersed in conversation, and in a brief time, they had caught up on Serena's blossoming career on the movie set and Blair's new epic battle with her sociology TA. Blair also discussed the new charity she was attempting to overthrow, Nate's new blonde foreign exchange girlfriend, and Chuck's whereabouts. He was apparently in Ibiza sewing whatever wild oats he had left before becoming a father. Serena was relieved to hear that time negotiations for the baby had been going well, so well in fact, Chuck and Blair rarely used their lawyers.

They both were jolted by a small crash of pots and pans down the hallway. Serena watched a concerned look cloud Blair's face.

Blair stood up and announced, "I need to go check in on the kitchen." Then explained, "I gave Mr. Humphrey my dad's pumpkin pie recipe, but I'm sure he's not executing it correctly."

Serena laughed at her friend. "Are you ever going to loosen the reins a bit?" Serena asked.

"Um," Blair began, doing her best to look like she was considering the thought, "let me think about it?" Then quickly responded, "No."

As Blair scuttled off, Serena rummaged through her oversized bag taking out her cell phone. She had turned it off in a misguided attempt to stop thinking about work, but she was kidding herself. She needed to check her email to see if Scott or Brian or any of her LA coworkers needed her.

As she began to open her email browser, she witnessed Rufus scurrying out the kitchen. Off of Serena's odd look, he responded, "Yeah. I'm not getting involved in that," as he pointed to the kitchen.

Serena put her cellphone down and stood up to see what the commotion was. As she crept closer to the kitchen's opening, she heard Blair's derisive tone declare, "I know you're versed in the fine art of waffles, but pie is not your specialty."

She heard Dan's low voice caution, "Maybe you should just let me make it _my_ way."

His eyes swept the counter and rested on a package of pre-ground nutmeg. "Alright," Blair said, voice sweet as saccharine. She smiled, again artificially, and moved towards the nutmeg. "Let me take care of that." She raised her eyebrows, and as she walked in Dan's direction, stopped to drop it in the trashcan. "Oops," she said, her eyes growing large as she looked in Dan's direction.

"Blair," Dan's voice, still low, warned.

"It's pre-ground," she said defensively.

"Blair." This time, he said it with more annoyance.

She shrugged her shoulders nonchalantly not even feigning care at this point. "Maybe," she said, "we'd make it that way if we were brought up in a hovel."

"Right," he snapped, still stirring the miscellaneous mixture in the bowl before him, "because having a maid who practically brushes your hair for you has made you an expert in the kitchen."

Blair finished the few steps it took to be next to Dan. "Move it before you lose a hand," she said pushing him out of the way.

"I've got an electric mixing tool," he said, brandishing the kitchen tool. "I'm not afraid of you, Waldorf."

Serena felt a hand on her shoulder, and she jumped, startled from her eavesdropping. She turned to see Eric smiling a little too knowingly. "Hey big sister who I never see anymore," he said, coming in for a hug.

"Eric," she said, as they released each other from the hug, "when did you get in?"

"I've actually been around the past two days and-" but he was interrupted by a clashing sound of pans in the kitchen. They both turned to see a standoff between Dan's electric mixer and Blair's copper pan.

"I thought you said they were dating," Serena said to Eric. She knew they were dating. She had blocked Gossip Girl from her cell so she wouldn't have to see updated pictures of them. She knew they were dating, but Blair never mentioned it on the biweekly calls. In their conversation on the couch, they hadn't even mentioned the fact that Blair was attending the Van der Humphrey Thanksgiving most likely because she was dating a Humphrey.

Serena knew Blair was dating Dan. She was happy for her. But, at the end of the day, it was much easier to ignore it.

"Who said they aren't," Eric replied, tilting his head a bit.

It was the scene before her that confused her. Blair and Dan fighting over trivial kitchen nonsense. It was just that...well...it was that... "They just haven't changed," Serena finally settled on the words.

Eric nodded. "I know," he said assuredly.

"I was expecting them to be..."

"Different?"

"Yes," Serena said. _Different_, that was it. They had to be different and they weren't at all. What she was watching could have been any Thanksgiving since she met Dan. "I mean they would have to be different to work as a couple," Serena said to Eric.

Eric smiled, a mix between bemusement at the situation and sadness for his sister. "I think if you think about it Serena," he said, "you'd know that wasn't true. They've kind of been perfect for each other all along."

Serena turned her head back in the direction of the kitchen. She watched as Dan threw a small amount of flour in Blair's face saying something about her liking Maria Antoinette's makeup choices. She watched as Blair's eyes lit up in fury, and Dan duck as Blair sent mashed pumpkin in his direction. But for all their bickering and barbed words, she hadn't seen either look this happy in a long time.

And it hurt a little, but nothing she couldn't get over for two of the people she loved the most.

Eric placed his hand softly on Serena's shoulder. "You could even say they were four years in the making," he said, smirking slightly and walking away.

Eric was right. The signs had always been there. The reasons she loved them both so much were the same exact reasons why they might be perfect for one another. It wasn't fate. It wasn't destiny. They weren't playing out a script of what should be. But amidst all the drama and trauma of all their relationships, they had somehow found something that worked. Something that had a simple beauty to it.

"Serena, save me," Blair said, rushing out of the kitchen to stand behind Serena.

Her best friend was flushed, her cheeks red and alive from her excitement in the kitchen. Serena turned her head to Dan, and while he was still holding the electric mixer in his hand, there was nothing close to menacing in his gaze. "From what exactly?" Serena asked in all honesty.

Blair gave her friend a peculiar look, then peered over the blonde's shoulder to look at Dan. The brunette stepped away from Serena's sheltering back and smiled at Dan in a genuine way - a way that made Serena ache. Serena looked to Dan, and he was smiling as well, eyes trained solely on Blair as he put down the electric mixer.

Blair's smile grew bigger. "I guess you have a point, S," she said, moving closer to Dan. The situation seemingly diffused until Serena noticed the flour covertly hidden in the hand behind Blair's back. Blair looked back at Serena and smirked. "Dan's not very good at strategy." She turned quickly and threw it straight in his face.

Dan coughed a puff of white dust into the air, and in a relatively civil tone, said, "Waldorf, you better have a change of clothes, because I'm about to muss up that dress."

Blair took a step back. "This is a custom-fitted Givenchy," she said as though the words carried weight.

This was Dan's turn to smirk. "Givenchy?" he asked. "Never heard of it."

"You wouldn't dare," Blair said, but her voice was lacking its usual confidence and she was already backing out into the living room.

"Oh," he said, moving in her direction, "trust me, I dare!"

Blair raced off. But before Dan went after her, he paused. "Welcome back Serena. I'd hug you but I think I need a change of clothes first."

She smiled because in the midst of everything, Dan hadn't forgotten about her, but before she could reply, he had already raced off too. Just when Serena was about to stew in her sudden sadness, her mom showed up behind her, placing her head on her daughter's shoulder. "When we talked on the phone, why didn't you tell me Cece hitched a ride with you from California?" she asked with accusation in her tone. She stood straight up and walked the very short distance to look her daughter in the eye. "She's staying at the Waldorf Astoria and wants to know if she can join us for Thanksgiving dinner."

Serena sighed but with a smile. She was waiting for this. Cece _had_ traveled from California with her, but her grandmother had opted for the car service instead of using NYC's public transit system. Something about dirty street urchins. "She's my grandmother," Serena said, emphasizing _grandmother_. "How could I say no?" Then off of Lily's glare, "Isn't Thanksgiving a time for family?"

Lily hugged her daughter and placing her arm on Serena's shoulder to guide them to some chairs, said, "They better be making French fries in there." She pointed to kitchen. "Lots of them."

Serena talked with her mother for a few minutes until Lily stood up to check in with the kitchen. She turned her chair to look out upon her home. Eric was nestled on the couch texting Jenny, a conversation probably about their boring families. Rufus was checking the turkey in the oven as Lily harassed him for fries to soothe her Thanksgiving-stress. Dan and Blair had emerged by the fireplace, Blair's Givenchy unscathed but several hairs out of place. The two were still bickering; this time about some random cultural reference. Serena's family was definitely a mix-match but it felt right - cobbled together with separates that somehow made the perfect outfit. And in that moment, she was struck with how the more things changed, the more they stayed the same. She knew no matter what, there was no place like home.

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**Author's Comment: I wrote this because I truly feel like ever lengthy GG story needs a Thanksgiving scene. Seriously, right? It does! I also kinda riddled it with GG references as well ("Trust me, I dare[dair]!" may be the most ridiculous.) Anyway, I hope if you made it this far that you enjoyed this story and how I ended it. I would love to hear your comments/opinions. (Don't make me beg. It's not pretty!) I don't see the season going this way - in fact, I'm excited for the possibility of something I couldn't even really imagine - but I really hope Dan/Blair happens. I've really hitched my horse to the couple, so to say. I'd be heartbroken if it's just dropped or (worse) handled disrespectfully. Here's to Season 5 and its possibilities! We can all trust...GG writers...uuhh...right? Oh screw it! At least people write good Dair fanfiction :) Until next time!**


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